


Treaty : Violation

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-04
Updated: 2006-03-03
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8076802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Enterprise tries to negotiate with the Capellans for the essential material Topaline. What happens when the cost of life in space becomes too high to pay? Tucker/f. (01/13/2006; rev. ed. updated 10/22/2006)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: In 1.01-1.02 "Broken Bow" it *aggravated* me that when Archer and Hoshi were captured by the Suliban, Archer fought several of them while Hoshi stood and struggled *helplessly* against one. I felt that a woman in Starfleet would receive the same self-defense training as a man, as we later saw in Season 3 with Malcolm's 'co-ed' training sessions. When it was revealed in Season 4 that Hoshi had a black belt in Aikido, I was *really* aggravated! This work is inspired by, and is a century-prequel to, TOS episode "Friday's Child" by D.C. Fontana.  


* * *

'Standard orbit, Travis.' Captain Jonathan Archer thought as they came out of warp. He did not say it aloud, however. For a pilot of Travis Mayweather's experience, it was hardly necessary. In fact, Archer had been making a conscious effort over the past week to refrain from giving unnecessary orders to his officers. He was trying to see if a minimalist approach to command would work out, if he could devise a working 'shorthand' with his crew, and the first stage of this was to refrain from telling them to do the obvious.

He glanced to his left at Hoshi Sato, allowing his eyes to say what his voice might have. A moment later he was rewarded with the report that "They are answering our hail."

He looked at the forward screen, which showed the image of a blue green planet. It appeared that the oceans covered almost 60 percent of the surface; T'Pol could tell him exactly if he cared to ask.

'They' were a small survey ship, the SS Bergman, in orbit about the planet. It had been there for almost two weeks, being in the interesting position for a Survey Ship, one which did not normally have contact with any of the worlds it found and mapped, of having made First Contact with a sentient species.

Normally a survey ship, a small vessel with a fifteen man crew, would concentrate upon stellar and planetary mapping, and have contact only with technologically advanced worlds or human colonies. But this vessel's life support system had had the misfortune to fail about a fortnight before due to contaminated filters. It had forced them to send a team to the surface of this planet to gather essential materials their sensors showed were available in abundance. Consequently, they could not avoid contact with the local population.

Their report to Starfleet resulted in the immediate dispatch of Enterprise.

The planet was found to be an abundant source of a material known as topaline, found there in rough mineral form. This element was essential in the production and operation of life support systems. In fact, to use the term 'abundant' was misleading. It was 'abundant' on Theta Antari II. _This_ world was absolutely brimming over with the stuff.

The sensor readings sent back to Starfleet Command had caused a sensation of staggering proportions. It was a find of the millennium, a stroke of the most incredible luck.

The Commander of the Bergman had negotiated for enough of the mineral to be used to repair his systems. Archer's orders: Negotiate for a billion times that much.

"On screen, Hoshi." Archer directed. A moment later the image of the planet (and the invisibly miniscule survey ship) was replaced by that of a bridge so small it made Enterprise's seem palatial. There was the central seat, already the 'traditional' place of command, though auxiliary control and tactical ran through its respective arm panels. Forward was the pilot station, to port was communications and science combined, to starboard were sensors and operations control. The three men occupying these stations looked barely out of the Academy. Their skipper probably had about five years on his subordinates. "Greetings, I'm Captain Jonathan Archer, commanding the Starship Enterprise."

"Hello, Captain." The man in the center seat greeted him cordially. "I'm Commander Barry Victor of the Bergman, out of Lunar Base." He and his fellows fairly exuded the thrill of discovery; a manner typifying the best of Starfleet explorers.

"Glad to meet you, Commander. And congratulations. You've likely made quite a name for yourself and your crew with this find."

"Thank you, sir. My crew and I are looking forward to assuming command of the NX-03."

Archer smiled. No one could accuse this man of thinking small. "Anything's possible." He agreed amiably. The other man's smile slipped a notch, but only for a moment before it was back in full force.

"Actually, it's a done deal. Apparently, someone in Command is very grateful." Archer was vastly surprised and equally pleased. Columbia, NX-02, was months from completion and its crew had already been selected. He was pleased that Starfleet was being so far-seeing, and he determined to keep a close eye on the career of this man and his fellows.

"Congratulations, sir.

"Thank you."

"What can you tell us now about this planet and its people?"

"A great deal, of course. We've been studying it in detail for nearly a fortnight, at least from orbit. The star is, as you know, Capella. The planet goes now by the vastly unimaginative name of Capella IV. It's known to the inhabitants as Ectilini-zoui-quilen-xval, which will probably never catch on with Cartographers, so we can get used to 'Capella IV'. Its people are humanoid, except that they range considerably taller than humans. 2.2 meters is not unusual."

Archer schooled his expression, rather glad for the moment that Trip was not on the bridge. He would certainly make some comment about these people being ones you could look up to. In this case, though, Archer could easily agree, if 7 feet was 'not unusual'.

"They are definitely pre-warp. In fact, they're pre-industrial. Technology and society are similar to feudal Earth. We had had no intention of contacting them, but our landing party was captured almost an hour after arrival. They were not harmed, as the leader of one of a multitude of tribes; whose title is 'Teer', was more interested than aggressive." He'd pronounced the title 'T-err', with a definite verbal stop between the syllables.

"Once they discovered we were not from one of the other nine major or ninety some-odd minor 'tribes', this 'Teer' was quite accommodating. In the interest of good will, he let the landing party go and allowed us to collect a supply of topaline. The natives had never heard of it as such, of course. To them it is just one more rock, but it is found in vast quantity and essentially useless to them. We made our repairs, made our reports to Starfleet, and then hung around until you got here so we could warn you."

Archer, who was already a veteran in several 'First Contact' situations, was not wholly surprised. When strangers are encountered who are not from another, probably competing, tribe appear and are in need of something you have in tremendous quantity, something tremendously valuable to them but useless to you, it doesn't take too much experience to know that another shoe is going to drop very, very soon. "I think I can see your warning, Commander. Topaline is not valuable to them, but something else would be."

"Exactly. They're quick on the uptake, these people. They knew once we were gone, others would be back. Those others would know of their abundant resource and be willing to pay for it."

"I'm sure Starfleet would be willing to pay a reasonable price."

"I sincerely hope not."


	2. Plans

Archer did not try to hide his surprise. "You hope _not_?" He wondered if he had heard the Commander correctly.

"Captain, there are prices and there are prices, but no price was quoted for the topaline--certainly not in currency, which would be even more useless to them than the 'rocks'. I tried to communicate this to Starfleet, but I think that Admiral John Black stopped listening when he found out just how much we can mine. My Science Officer's estimate was figured in ranges of hundreds of tons on or just below the surface, with far more as you go deeper. You can outfit a staggering number of ships, stations and outposts with that amount, but I feel the unstated price is a bit too steep."

"And that is?"

"Well, Captain, as I tried to relay, this 'Teer' Akaar is one of nearly a hundred leaders of as many tribes scattered all over the planet. There are ten major tribes and about nine times that number minor ones which owe fealty and protection to one of the larger ones. It's not an even nine-to-one split by any means, but that makes no difference. There are effectively ten tribes, and each has a number of 'satellite' tribes. We could deal with any of the other Teers; topaline is that common. But if we undercut Akaar, he'll hear about it and he and the tribes that owe fealty to him would not be happy with whoever does business with us."

"I understand."

"Furthermore, as I noted, topaline cannot be used as a weapon, but they are a fierce race who live and believe in a hard and harsh life. Akaar has visions of being the 'High Teer' of _all_ of the Tribes, and he knows how to drive a bargain."

* * *

"You told all this to Admiral Black?"

"Exactly as I'm telling you. And I can even tell you the point in which I could tell from his expression that he had stopped listening."

Archer could empathize with this man's position. He'd made his report, and tried to advise his superior of the potential consequences of taking advantage of this 'windfall'. It was not his fault that the very first thing Black had done was to send Enterprise charging out to cut a deal. He wondered if Victor's 'reward' of a command of an NX vessel somehow had a bitter aftertaste.

"Don't worry about that, Captain." The man on the screen told him. "My crew, and I, earned this, and we'll be moving up as promised."

Archer was vastly surprised, and was sure his face showed it. "No, Captain, I'm not psychic, just a very careful observer of people."

"In that case, Commander, you should do well on the bridge of the Republic."

* * *

A half hour later, in the briefing room, the Command crew of Enterprise met in person their counterparts from the Bergman; Commander Barry Victor and Science Officer Lt. Philip Mendez. "As I noted, Captain, they average nearly 7 feet tall, physiques necessary to deal with a harsh, desert climate. They generally wear single piece clothing that covers them from ankle to top of head, with ornamentation at chest and shoulder to distinguish cast and rank.

"Theirs is a society that on Earth would be described as 'feudal'. Not technologically advanced or sophisticated, but don't try to put anything over on them."

"Their principle weapon," Mendez picked up the narrative, "is called a kligat. It's a bladed weapon, disk-like, carried on the belt. It is thrown like a discus and can be accurate to about a hundred meters. I saw one of them take down a running animal at nearly that far. The creature was running a lateral path and it was caught in the neck and killed instantly. I could not visually track the kligat; I only heard it. To this, add an impressive variety of swords and knives."

Victor resumed his story. "Akaar is a shrewd man. He knew there was little I could give him, but one of my landing party tried to explain before I arrived why we were there. Akaar realized there was more profit in letting us go unmolested, with a 'sample' of their resources, than in making any trouble for us or himself."

"He knew Starfleet would jump at the chance to get a virtually unlimited supply of the stuff." Archer agreed.

* * *

The value of topaline simply can not be overstated. In mineral form it can be ground down to an extremely fine powder for use in lining atmospheric filters. A thin coating of the material was a perfect filter for any organic or inorganic material, which were blocked on the molecular level. Oxygen, however, passed through the topaline as if it were not there.

After the supply was saturated, it could simply be withdrawn, the waste material separated from the topaline, and then reinserted in the filter to resume its function. It took weeks of normal wear for a supply of topaline to attain a point at which it had to be replaced rather than reused. Judiciously used, a ship the size of Enterprise could last for months on a few hundred pounds.

* * *

"What can we expect when we get there?" Archer asked.

"I wish I could say exactly. It depends upon how accommodating Akaar wants to be. I can tell you that they respect strength, but not to the point where it becomes bullying. However, their philosophy is that the strong should live; the weak should die, so there is great incentive to appear strong. I didn't see too much of their society. My concern, frankly, was getting my landing party back to the ship in one piece without offering to outfit his army."

"Did he ask you to?"

"Not in so many words; no. But I could tell what was on his mind as I learned more about the sociological and political situation down there. He's a shrewd negotiator, as I said. He didn't come right out and ask, but he made it clear that he had something we wanted, and there was something he wanted that we were in a position to give him. He was also smart enough to know I wasn't able to make them an offer, but when my leaders found out what was available; they would send someone who could."

"Couldn't you make it clear to them that we can't either?" Tucker asked, not trying to hide his annoyance.

"Commander, there were five of us, unarmed. I thought it best not to let them get in reach of phase pistols. We had nearly half a kilometer to go on foot, through his warriors, to reach our shuttle. I did not want him to get it into his head that we were _totally_ useless to him."

Tucker had no further arguments.

* * *

"Well, we're under orders by Starfleet to get a treaty to mine this stuff. What do you suppose we can offer in place of phase pistols?"

Victor's eyes flickered to T'Pol, seated silently across the table from him. He knew how the Vulcan would react to what he was going to suggest, but did so anyway. "Captain; we are, technologically, a good five hundred years ahead of these people. We could probably come up with a hundred things useful to a people living a hard life. Their planet has sufficient oceans but fairly few rivers. I believe many may have been cut off at the oceans by tribesmen trying to gain advantages over their inland 'brethren'. The territory controlled by this Teer, whom I understand is always 'Akaar', is a mountainous region that gets little annual rainfall. I know, when I was there, I would not have minded having a portable T4 water system.

"One of the guards detaining my party had lost three fingers on his left hand in battle. Dr. Gyves tells me he could have restored them with a theoretical loss of dexterity of only fourteen percent.

"Their women do not fight; though I understand they have several castes, each of whom have several different duties and roles. Basing Species Life Expectancy on theirs; the SLE comes to about sixty years, plus or minus ten percent. There are a few warriors that old, but not many. Akaar is in about his mid-fifties, so far as I could tell without asking. The average warrior sees thirty five if he's skillful; thirty if he runs into someone more skillful."

He looked at the assembled officers. "The problem is, while I can name about a hundred technological advances that could benefit them, I've yet to find one that cannot be applied in some way or another toward a method of getting one up on someone else.

"We could give them T4's, but if they can make unlimited supplies of water literally out of thin air, what happens when their other inland neighbors hear of it and want some? Or the coastal warriors find out their strategies and efforts are no longer effective? Will Akaar sell the water to his neighbors? And if so, what will he ask in return? A man could become 'High Teer' just because he has something, in unlimited supply; that everyone wants--that everyone _needs_. But what happens if, rather than pay that particular price, his neighbors try to _take_ it?"


	3. Receptance

Archer surveyed his Officers, and saw each of them was thinking the same thing as he was. This was shaping up, on the long run, to be a no-win situation; at least if Victor's summation was accurate. The problem was; he had no reason to doubt that it was.

Then again, it was not the first time that Starfleet Command had handed him such an assignment. In fact, someone at SC seemed to revel in handing him seemingly no-win situations. He wondered if this theoretical tormentor was pleased or frustrated when Archer and his crew managed to beat the odds. He hoped he was entertaining someone, somewhere.

Finally, a no-win situation was simply not acceptable; not to Command, and certainly not to him.

"We'll go down in Shuttlepod One at 1030 hours. Trip, Malcolm, Hoshi, desert uniforms."

"Aye, sir." The three responded in ragged chorus.

"Good luck." Victor said.

* * *

A desert uniform is very light tan in color, made of a material that cast off heat as quickly as it was encountered. Not only did it 'reject' outside heat, but provided the ultimate in radiation of body heat. It was eminently possible to feel quite cool in one of these uniforms; to run extended distances, or fight if necessary, without breaking a sweat in a temperature of nearly 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

From what they knew about the area where Akaar's village was located, there was little risk of 100 degree weather. In fact, readings put the locale at a balmy 85, but Archer still wanted to make sure they were not unduly uncomfortable, particularly with dark blue uniforms for extended periods in the harsh light of Capella's sun. They would have only the resources they brought with them; he was in no hurry to introduce Akaar to anything he did not have to.

Archer wondered, as he entered the shuttle, how much this material would be worth to the Capellans. It did seem a harsh life, and he was thinking of the numerous things that might be traded to make such a life easier; things that did not involve the natives shooting at each other.

The Bergman would remain in orbit so that Barry Victor could provide introductions when the shuttle lands. 'First Contact always runs smoother when there is someone to make the introductions', Archer had said on many an occasion.

* * *

When Shuttlepod One, piloted by Travis, who would remain with the pod in the event of a need for a rapid departure, descends just outside the camp, after a recon flyby, they are able to get a good look at the area. It is a collection of tents laid out in no particular order they could see, but one that might be very significant to the Capellans. All are of ornate style, utilizing numerous colors and designs, these again probably quite significant. Several of them had colored pennants flying above. Archer hoped he would learn the significances of the area quickly.

Through the forward viewports they get a good look at the people. It was a surprising view indeed.

All are dressed in one-piece clothing, extending from ankles to the crown of the head. The only visible means of ornamentation are horizontal bands of animal skins of various color and texture, which went up at ninety degrees to the left or right shoulder, apparently never both. All their heads were covered with headpieces that were extensions of the main clothing, leaving only their faces bare. Each headpiece was open on top, from which their hair fell in long tails down to their necks.

"What do you think?" Archer asked in general, referring to the variety of clothing, some one color, some two, some with an occasional change in color just in the sleeve or the chest area set off by the 'piping'. "Rank? Nativity?"

"Maybe." Trip agreed noncommittally. He didn't want to jump to any conclusion either until he had a chance to learn more.

All the men are armed with a wide variety of swords or knives. The only things of uniformity are the sharp, discus-like kligats at their belts.

Archer glances at Hoshi. In keeping with his new 'style' he does not ask. Hoshi nods. "I've downloaded everything from the Bergman's files into the UT, and I'll be 'fine tuning' it as we go."

"We had no problems with what we had; thanks to the Ensign's regular uploads of data files and software upgrades." Victor assured him with a nod of acknowledgement to Hoshi. "You should have no trouble at all."

"I'm sure." Looking out the port, he saw the Capellans arrayed to meet them. "Let's go."

* * *

As one already known to the Capellans, Barry Victor exited first, followed by Archer, Trip, Malcolm and Hoshi. They faced the almost seven foot tall Capellan, whose dark blue clothing was of a distinctly finer material than the others'. The 'ornamentation' across his chest and up his right side was not animal skin, but ornately fashioned gold tassels.

"Hail, Kapaar, First Maav of Akaar." Victor strikes his chest with his closed hand, "We come with open hearts," then extends that hand open before him, "and hands." The Enterprise crew performs the gesture with him as they had discussed earlier.

"Welcome. You are honored guests in the Tribe of Akaar. The Teer is in Council but will receive you shortly. In the meantime I am to show you to your tent where you may rest and refresh yourselves."

"Thank you." Archer says. He would like to have seen some of the camp and its people; only so much could be learned from a briefing and a flyby, but this had not been offered. Instead the crew followed their guide to a fairly large tent of a more than usually ornate design, following the First Maav inside. There was little within, piles of animal furs and pillows to rest upon, an unlit brazier in the center, which would provide welcome heat at night. High overhead was an opening which would provide circulation and venting.

"If you have any needs, honored guests, you have but to ask. I shall see to your receptance." As he took his leave, Archer glanced at Hoshi.

"He did say it." It was unlikely for the UT to fail in so simple a grammatical concept, so they had to conclude he had said what they had heard.

They also did not miss the fact that the two men who had been their escort now kept a kind of 'Honor Guard', standing facing one another outside the tent entrance, which had been left open. They had a full panoramic view, but did not intrude. Hoshi held up the UT, her finger passing above the activation switch, but Archer shook his head. She put the device away in her uniform's right sleeve, leaving it turned on.

"How does this differ from your last visit?" Archer asked Victor.

"Well, we weren't 'honored guests' then; we were suspect strangers. The accommodations weren't all that different. Smaller tent, less comfortable skins and pillows, more guards..." His voice trailed off as another Capellan, this one tall enough to have to duck his head to enter, stepped through the flap. His one-piece clothing was black, trimmed in a horizontal, then vertical line of intricate gold tassels across his chest and up to his left shoulder, his long train of blond hair (which seemed to be the most frequent color) coming out of the top of his black headpiece to trail down to his neck.

* * *

"Greetings, Saal, Second Maav of Akaar." Victor said, using the same 'open heart and hand' gesture he had earlier. The Enterprise crew copied it, and the tall man returned the gesture. He was even larger than his superior, easily over seven feet tall.

"Your receptance, honored guests." He stepped aside, admitting a very lovely young woman, and another, and another, and...

* * *

If the men's clothing obscured everything about them, the sheer thin veils of the twelve young women who entered in a line went to the opposite extreme. The sheer veils went from one shoulder across chests to be fastened in back by tiny, thin golden chains. Even smaller veils covered their hips not far enough down. The veils might have obscured something had there been six or eight layers rather than one.

The four Starfleet men stared at the women arrayed before them, trying their best not to let their feelings show in their eyes. Hoshi, having been standing a few feet aside, wound up behind the line of nubile young women, not one of them having attained a height of six feet. She had a very different expression burned into her features.

"Choose."

Archer was about to protest when it became very clear that the word had not been directed to him. As Saal left, four lovely young women broke off and came to him, hands and bodies caressing him. Three each approached Tucker and Victor while two draped themselves expertly over Reed, bringing their considerable talents to bear so well that he did not feel in the least slighted by having had only two choose him.

They realized the Capellans had discerned the significance of the silver rank studs on the chests of the men, and assigned the 'receptance' accordingly.

Jonathan Archer, doing his best to maintain his balance and his dignity against the gentle efforts of four almost nude women to topple him onto the nearest pile of animal furs, tried to call for order--some order. "Wait a minute." He protested, though truth be told he hated to have to. "Stop."

The woman nearest his ear whispered hotly: "You wish another?" To his left he saw Barry Victor lose the gentle struggle, succumbing to a particularly devious move involving eight twisting feet, six of them bare, and four bodies toppled almost silently into a hill of furs.

"I'm not quite sure what we can do, Cap'n." Trip observes through his trio of clinging beauties, all applying their considerable talents at once.

"Aye, sir." Reed agreed. "They're not exactly _attacking_ \--OH!" He exclaimed, eyes bursting wide as one of the women found and applied attention to a particularly sensitive spot.

"They're just trying to make us feel welcome." Trip observed, trying not too hard to push the women away. "I'm not sure we can say 'no' without giving offense, all in the interests of diplomatic relations."

Victor was almost lost to sight under a pile of naked feminine flesh.

"I'm certain _Tia_ and _Patricia_ will be very understanding." At the sharp reminder, Trip and Malcolm's faces fell and their 'resistance' became a measure more serious. Archer, feeling two hands, one from the front and one from the back, converge on an especially sensitive location, struggled to keep his temper. "Ladies, that's _enough_!"

Even if he did not have to maintain the dignity of Starfleet, he had never had any particular love or desire for more than one companion at a time, not even when it was a quartet of beauties all doing their best to make him feel 'welcome'. And though he did prefer an active, engaged partner, the fervency of these women was actually putting him off.

"Why?" One of them asked. Her tone told him quite clearly that reluctance or resistance was something completely unheard of.

One of the women, encountering more resistance from Trip than she had ever experienced and far more than she cared to know, saw Hoshi standing off from the group and stepped up to her. "You are alone. I am sorry, but there..." She raised a comforting hand but Hoshi glared at her, her voice too low to carry but deadlier than a torpedo.

"If you touch me with either hand, I will _break_ it!"

"But _why_?" Resistance was so outside her experience as to be beyond her conception.

Archer; cautious of giving offence but vastly uncomfortable, restrained a yellow haired woman barely half his age from pulling down the zipper of his uniform. For an moment it was a gentle contest until he allowed some of his feelings to creep into his hard voice. "All right, that's _enough_!" He pushed the four away from him, not roughly but very firmly. They did not try to resume their places.

Looking about, he found Trip barely on his feet, Malcolm apparently near to going down, and Commander Victor nowhere to be found. "ATTENTION!" He commanded in a voice sharp enough to split dilithium. Tucker, Reed and Sato crashed to attention, Victor erupting from a pile of twisting limbs, his uniform massively disheveled. Seeing the Captain's volcanic expression, he quickly restored his attire.

The Starfleet officers, obedient to orders, did nothing to acknowledge their 'receptance'. The twelve women, three of them now naked, turned their vastly confused attention on Archer. "But _why_? Do we displease you?"

"It's not that." He told her, trying to walk a tightrope of diplomacy. "It's just that humans, well, we have rules. We're not allowed to--."

"We'll be punished if we displease you." There was real apprehension in her voice.

"But you don't. You please us greatly, but we--we have others and humans may engage in--in that sort of thing with only one. I'll tell Akaar you were very good, but -."

"No need. We understand." The woman glanced at Hoshi, clearly determining the 'one' to whom Archer referred. They start to file out, one of the last speculating just loudly enough to be overheard on the practice of guests bringing their own.

Hoshi Sato stared after the women; then turned to her shipmates, appalled. The men had well enough developed senses of self-preservation to say absolutely nothing.

She tried to speak, tried again, and finally found her voice. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" Archer could see what was on her mind, but allowed the expression. "I find their subservience absolutely _disgusting_."

"That's a pretty strong word." Trip said.

"I know many that are a lot _stronger_ , sir." She assured him, her voice hard. She does not in any way speculate on what the men might have done had she not been present. Not only would the permission to speak freely be instantly revoked, but she would undoubtedly earn an unwelcome response.

* * *

It was less than a minute after the women had filed out that the huge Saal entered, ducking his head to enter the tent. "Honored Guests..." He began, looking at Archer, allowing the confusion he felt to enter his tone. "Did you not like your receptance?"

"The receptance was highly appreciated, but our laws forbid us to indulge." Saal looked at them curiously, clearly trying to keep from expressing what was on his mind. He was likely under instructions to avoid giving offence, and was trying to comply with those instructions as well as he could. But Archer could see, before the thought was hidden from the man's face, just what he thought of those who did not take advantage of the hospitality the receptance represented.

"Akaar will see you now." So saying, he turned and exited the tent, clearly expecting to be followed. The Starfleet officers exited the tent in the same way they had arrived among the Capellans.

It was not a long walk, but it afforded plenty of opportunity to look around. All of the men wore the same type of clothing, which covered them from head to foot. Sometimes one color throughout, sometimes two, sometimes the difference would be in a sleeve or on the 'other side' of the ubiquitous sash of fur or material worn horizontally across the chest and then upward toward one shoulder. Almost uniformly, they sported long hair, usually blond or light brown, from an opening in the top of the headpiece to hang down in a single 'tail' to about their shoulders.

The women, curiously, were dressed in a wide variety of styles, ranging from full coverage veils to little more than those worn by the receptance. In fact, as they passed, Archer saw one of the 'receptance' women, who favored him with a very unfriendly glare. He was not sure it was because of his refusal, or for any reprisal the woman had or would suffer. He determined to be extremely careful in his upcoming dealings with this Teer Akaar. He did not want anything he said or did in these negotiations to have any possible fallout on anyone else. Of course, he knew this was infinitely more easily said than done, even when dealing with known races, even human. Foreseeing the consequences of a misstep here was going to be deucedly difficult.

Of course, those were the same concerns and stresses he dealt with on any contact with an alien race. Best, as always, to get through it without second-guessing himself too much.

As they passed, all who went about their business were armed with swords, knives and the ever present kligat at their belts. All also displayed a careful lack of curiosity or attention that did not fool the Starfleet officers for an instant. Archer and his team knew they were under close scrutiny during every second of their trip to the Teer's tent.

That tent was located in the center of the camp, and was clearly the largest and most ornate of all of them. The decorative work in the material was impressively detailed and opulent, clearly telling everyone who resided or visited there that this was the home of the leader.

When they entered the tent, there were few inside. A man was seated on the only chair in sight, and even through Archer had seen many in his time this was quite definitely a throne. It was, in fact, an oddity as it was the only chair they had seen thus far--everyone else sat on pillows or cushions.

Kapaar, First Maav, stood on Akaar's right, and when Saal had introduced his charges he took his place at Akaar's left. The other men surrounding the conclave did not move or speak, but their attitude fairly screamed 'guardian'. Though all thus towered over the seated Akaar, there was absolutely no doubt who was in charge.

Akaar was the only one whose head was not covered, but who showed his entire face to them. His hair was almost white, a 'consequence' of blonde hair losing its pigment. His manner was not forbidding, but he was quite evidently someone who was used to having his orders obeyed.

Archer had learned in the briefing that the name and rank were inherited, but they hadn't learned as yet for how many generations 'Teer Akaar' had ruled 'Tribe Akaar'. He was, however, not concerned with dynasties; only with how he could deal with the present occupant of the throne.

In unison the Starfleet Officers extended the traditional greeting of the Capellans even as Commander Victor spoke the formal words.

"You come from the Earth?"

"Yes, Teer." Archer replied.

"Did you find your receptance to your liking?"

'Okay, early start across the minefield.' Archer thought. "Your hospitality and generosity were most impressive and appreciated. Unfortunately, our laws forbid us to indulge, but be assured we are honored by your reception."

Seemingly satisfied by this answer, he looked briefly at Hoshi. "It is unusual for a woman to be present at these negotiations."

"Only women of rank may enter here." Kapaar said. Archer was mildly annoyed that the man had mentioned none of this when he first greeted them.

Hoshi glanced at Archer, and was about to offer to wait outside, but he spoke first, his voice firm. "Ensign Sato is my Communications Officer, and a woman of rank aboard my ship." He and Akaar locked eyes in a long stare, a silent contest of wills that lasted about fifteen seconds before Akaar smiled, looking at Hoshi.

"As such we greet you."

"Thank you, Teer." She replied, inclining her head slightly.

They all recognized that this was a test, one Archer could not let slide easily. If he did not take a firm stand in support of his officers and his selection of his team, the Capellans would think him weak, and they would try to walk all over him in the negotiations to come.

"I understand that you, like the Bergmen, have come seeking rocks you value."

Archer hid a smile at this designation of the crew of the SS Bergman, though Barry Victor's expression was held carefully blank. "Yes, Teer. Our scientists value some of your rocks, and I have been directed to negotiate a treaty to mine them."

"This interests me." He stood up, and they found he was taller than all in the room except Saal, with a bearing one would expect of an Emperor. "We will see how they will be put to use."

"Teer?" Archer was sure he knew what was coming, but did not like it. He also did not want to jump to any conclusion, in case this was just the man's way of saying he wanted a demonstration of the method by which topaline operates.

"We shall go to your ship high above our heads, to see what use you make of our rocks, and negotiate there for your wish to mine more."

Jonathan Archer did not even glance at his fellow officers; he knew they were thinking the same thing he did. Starfleet frowned on contact with races that had not reached a level of technology at which they could travel to other worlds, a 'warp-capable' civilization. T'Pol was a source of frequent reminders of this. These people had not even developed _rockets_ yet. There was even a question in his mind of whether they had even conceived of the sling shot.

But in the man's tone, in his eyes, Archer recognized they had very quickly reached a stumbling block. Akaar _intended_ to see his ship, and would negotiate _there_! The chance of his backing down from this statement made in front of his own people was about as high as Archer's obtaining a tray of ice-cubes on the sun.

Nor could Archer say that his superiors would forbid it. To do so would again weaken his position, as would Admiral Forrest's after-the-fact order to remove the Capellans from Enterprise.

All in all, Archer had to admit that this hand, brief though it had been, had been well played. He determined to watch the next hand more closely.

* * *

The return trip to Enterprise had been interesting, mostly in terms of watching the reactions of the Capellans to launching into space in the Shuttlepod, maneuvering to and docking with the orbiting starship. Next was the trip to Decon; something Phlox had insisted upon when he heard that three representatives of a world with such an incredibly low level of technology were coming aboard.

Akaar, Kapaar and Saal had tried very hard to take all of this in stride, not letting their faces show any of the feelings they were experiencing during their first space flight. Their reactions were hardly as contained as they wished to believe, something the Enterprise crew would not in any way embarrass their guests by showing. It was, however, fairly entertaining to watch.

Archer wondered if Akaar would use more care in the future before insisting on getting something he wanted.

* * *

Their first stop on being released from Decon was, of course, Sick Bay. Phlox, though assured they did not carry any detectable microbes or other pathogen, still wanted to conduct a thorough examination of the newcomers.

None had any objection. It afforded them a chance for a more thorough look around, particularly since the manner of their hosts' reaction was such that this was not in any way unusual.

Thus it was that, while Phlox conducted his examinations, and everyone else returned to their stations except Tucker, who stood by discretely observing, Akaar and Archer were able to begin their negotiations. It was not a true 'negotiation'; that would come later. Each side knew the reason for this visit, and for the 'tour' that was inevitable. Akaar wanted to find out what his hosts had before he decided what he was going to ask for.

And one of the important keys in that strategy was finding out just how badly these 'topaline' rocks were needed.

Archer was fairly annoyed at the need to play 'host' this time. His orders from Admiral John Black (quite annoyingly Maxwell Forrest was on a three week vacation) were explicit. Get the mining treaty; period.

Truth be told, it was not that he minded having guests aboard Enterprise. He just wanted to be able to be in a position to decide if this was a good idea or not. Effectively, his orders had taken that, and many other decisions, out of his hands.

"I think, Captain, that it would be best if you and I continued this discussion alone. Is there a place my Maavs can reside while we discuss matters?"

"Of course." He did not like the use of the word 'reside', but he had to admit that it was unlikely they would come to a settlement before lunch. Best to limit exposure as much as possible, however, and if Akaar wanted to be the only one to see this ship freely, he had no objections to that. Looking about, Archer spotted a woman working across the room. "Ensign Samuels?"

Dina Samuels turned from the bottle in which she had been pouring an amber liquid. "Yes, Captain?"

"Would you join us please?"

"Of course, Captain." She set the bottle down, topping everything, and stepped over to her commander and his three ( _tall!_ ) guests.

Samuels was twenty nine, had long brown hair which cascaded past her shoulders, brown eyes and a figure no Starfleet issue uniform could hide well. She was known to the men and other women aboard Enterprise as 'the Barber' or 'the Beautician', depending upon who was consulted. She was assigned to Life Sciences, which made her ostensively part of Phlox's staff as well as under T'Pol's Science Division, and several from that small section doubled as 'nurses' or assistants in Sick Bay when needed.

When she joined them, Archer introduced her to the three Capellans. At five eight, she had to look high up at the three, the shortest of which was Kapaar at six ten. Akaar was seven two and Saal seven three.

Samuels was not intimidated. She was used to men taller than she was; though not quite to this extent.

"Ensign, Teer Akaar and his First and Second Maavs will be staying aboard Enterprise for a short time. Would you please escort Kapaar and Saal to quarters on D deck, 145 and 149? The Teer will be in 147. Please see they are settled in, see to their needs, and so forth."

"Of course, Captain." She said with a smile. "This way, please, gentlemen."

As she led them away, Archer turned his attention back to Akaar, briefly catching Trip's eye. He was grateful for his friend's silent presence; he would want to get the man's impressions as soon as they were alone.


	4. Violation

Ensign Dina Samuels leads her charges to the turbolift for a brief rise to D-deck, and is starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. It has nothing to do with the towering height of her charges, though Saal had to actually duck when he entered the lift.

It is, in fact, the way he is openly staring at her. It is not curiosity about a new species or anything of the kind. That she is fairly used to, having served for many months aboard Enterprise and been part of several Away teams.

No, this kind of look is far more familiar and discomforting. She knows it very well from men, and it frequently meant they were trying to use their eyes as x-ray machines. The only thing that compels her to not openly confront him is that the ship, in the person of her Captain, is involved in diplomatic negotiations with these people. She is not privy to what, but she had overheard enough in Sick Bay to tell her that negotiations were indeed going on, and that Archer and Phlox considered them to be quite important.

But when the lift stops and she leads them down the corridor, she can almost feel Saal's eyes rubbing her rear. She tries walking as slowly, as 'motionlessly', as possible, which is more difficult than it sounds, but there is not much more she can do. He isn't doing anything he could be slapped for, but she could wish he would use a little more 'human' restraint.

They reach D/145 barely soon enough for her, admitting Kapaar into the room set aside for him. She tells him what she can about the details of the room, knowing he is not technologically proficient yet not wanting to sound condescending, all the while not envying Jonathan Archer one bit for the tightrope he must be walking.

She tells him last about the intercom, which she explains could be used in getting answers to any questions. She suspects it will be getting a lot of use.

This duty done, she reluctantly leaves with Saal, wishing she could have placed him first before settling in the more discrete Kapaar. He too had looked, but she had not felt the urge to slap him. Saal, on the other hand, is in desperate need of one.

But she remembers the subtle emphasis Archer had placed on their titles of First and Second Maav, picking up the cue about how they should be treated.

Thus, she tries to push her discomfort aside and treat the Second with the same courtesy she had the First in settling him in.

She tells herself she is overreacting, that the way he looks at her might mean nothing like she interprets it. Maybe it is a cultural thing. Maybe it is innocent. She tells herself she is reacting foolishly, to not be uncomfortable, to push aside her feelings and do her job like the professional she is. She does not voice any objection to his very obviously undressing her with his eyes, well aware of the Captain's need for smooth diplomacy on this mission. She knows none of the details, of course, but as a good officer she does not wish to complicate the Captain's mission; in her own thoughts, not to 'screw it up'.

She instructs him on the details of the room, pretty much the same speech she gave to the First, firmly keeping in mind that he is not human and she should not expect human behavior from him. She is uncomfortable, but pushes it aside. She is a professional and would do her job.

But when she tries to leave he does not step out of her way. She steps aside to pass him and he blocks her path again. "Excuse me." She says politely, a little more put out by his behavior. It is one thing to be undressing her with his eyes, another to keep her from her duties. Unexpectedly, the tall man grabs her arm, yanking her into his embrace. He holds her with his left arm around her as he bends to her and kisses her hard. She pushes against him, her protests muffled by his lips mashing into hers and, as she struggles, his right hand comes down between her legs and he actually lifts her off the floor!

Her weight is supported painfully on her crotch as he kisses her harder, his mouth pressing so hard on hers she would either have to open her mouth or have her lips mashed against her teeth. She does neither, putting her hands up high near his throat, her thumbs pressing into the hollow at his windpipe and she shoves him back with all her strength. He drops her as he staggers back, vastly surprised, but she is ready and lands on her feet.

"Now listen!" She says angrily, her mouth sore but trying not to show how much that and his hand between her legs had hurt. "I've been patient, I've been polite, but that's _it_! I don't know what you're used to or what you expect, but you do not farging _touch_ me, understand?"

Unmoved by her anger, far from angry himself, he growls something the UT does not render, and reaches for her faster than she can block, his hand clamping tightly about her left breast. Instantly Dina rams the heel of her right hand into his wrist, violently breaking the hold and then her fist whips back and high up, slamming across his right cheek hard enough to stagger him.

* * *

Dina faces him down, despite having to look up so high at him. He is nineteen inches taller than she is, and it is like looking up at a giant, but Dina is not deterred. Height means nothing if he does not know how to use it. The trouble is, she realizes, he probably does.

Dina hides as best she can how much pain she is feeling in her sensitive breast, first tightly squeezed and then yanked when she broke his hold. She did not hit him as hard as she might have, holding back a bit in the interest of the mission, but her anger mounts. "Listen, _bastard_ , I told you one time! _Keep your farging hands off me_!"

He grins, clearly pleased at her desire to fight and reaches for her again. This time both hands predictably grab for her breasts, but she brings her own hands down over his before he can reach her, thumbs to the backs of his hands and she twists sharply up and outward. She steps back, keeping her grip and, taking advantage of his longer reach, brings her right foot up in a high kick into his jaw, letting go at the last instant as he is knocked several paces back.

He is staggered from the powerful kick, but shakes it off as she crouches, hands up defensively, ready for his next move. He seems quite content to fight, happy at the prospect.

She does not intend to slug it out with him, knowing she would lose against his greater reach and strength. But her strength is mostly in her lower body, so it is there that Reed focused her unarmed training.

She might have considered holding back, but she can see in his eyes, in his manner, what he intends; and she has absolutely no compunction about kicking him in a vulnerable spot to stop him.

"Look, it's only in the interest of Captain Archer's diplomacy that I'm not handing your head to you, but this is your _last_ chance!" He smiles, liking a challenge, and suddenly charges her, his hands going for her throat.

She sidesteps his rush, grabbing him and shoving as hard as she can in the same direction, her foot coming out to trip him and he ends up against the far bulkhead with an impressive crash.

Dina realizes he is probably quite surprised, doubting that a woman from his world puts up much of a fight. 'More's the pity.' She thinks. 'If they did, he wouldn't be so cocky.'

He reaches for her quickly. She twists to the side and her right fist snaps up sideways into his nose once, twice, three times as fast as she can hit. Angry, he holds his nose, looking down at her with mounting rage.

She backs away, still facing him, but seeking room to maneuver, prepared for another attack, hands up, dancing lightly on her feet as she shakes her head warningly. "Stop this now! I am a Starfleet Officer and I assure you Lieutenant Reed makes sure we all have _excellent_ training. Stop this, and we'll both walk away. I'll even let this be our little secret; all in the interest of interstellar diplomacy." She does not believe for an instant it will be that easy, and is prepared when he charges her.

She kicks him hard in his stomach, the force of her kick halting him and bending him over. She does not try to use her hands against his greater reach; this is not a club fight. Grabbing the long mane of blond hair that protrudes from his head covering, she brings her knee up as hard as she can, gratified by his grunt of pain as she lets go and he staggers back, holding his face, blood pouring from his nose as he looks at her, surprise overwhelmed by growing rage.

"You just don't farging _listen_! You are not _touching_ me--got it?"

He charges, leading with his hands and his rage.

* * *

She doesn't let him get close, ducking away, spinning and launching a strong kick to his chest, which halts him. In the same motion she kicks him again in the stomach, using her momentum to turn and launch a high roundhouse kick across his jaw which slams him into the door. He leans against it, stunned, as she stands poised, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, open hands ready.

"Had enough? I don't know about women on your planet, but on Earth we have a saying; 'Life's a bitch-- _and so am I_ '!" He stands upright, shaking his head to clear it. "Just say the word, pal, and we can end this. I'll walk out that door and you can keep your balls intact!"

He steps away from the door. "Word."

* * *

Dina, relieved, allows herself to visibly relax. But only visibly, for when his fist shoots out to her stomach she is ready, shifting to her left to avoid the blow and, as he gets close, she rams her elbow into his side.

As he passes, she kicks him behind his knees, which buckle, sending him to the floor. He turns over, looking up at her. " _Last farging chance_! You get up again and try anything; I'll have you in Sick Bay for a month!"

He stands up and she is ready as his fist flashes toward her face. She ducks to her left, arm up to deflect the blow, and she never has time to avoid his other fist as it slams into her face.

The heavy blow stuns her and she staggers back, barely able to keep her feet, for an instant dazed as well as surprised. She is hit so hard that immediately she loses all sensation in the right side of her face. Before she can shake it off his hand is at her throat, his other at the top of her uniform and the fast sound of the uniform's zipper is surprisingly loud as she is almost pulled off her feet by the force of its opening.

She swings her fist up as hard as she can, barely able to reach but connecting solidly with his jaw as he is rocked back. True to her training, she turns and kicks him as hard as she can, knocking him even further away. She hears a dull 'thump' as he hits the bulkhead, and she takes an instant to shake off the effect of his own punch and close her uniform. Reaching quickly, not taking her eyes off him, she grabs the zipper which had been pulled all the way to her hips and tries to tug it back into place, but it will not move. Sparing a glance down, she finds that the zipper has been pulled all the way to her hips and actually torn right off its leads. It will not close again.

* * *

Looking up at her opponent towering over her, who is even now shaking off the effects of her defense, she catches sight of herself in the mirror next to him. Her uniform gapes wide, though the black shirt still covers her. Blood she can not feel is flowing from her nose down her numb face.

Dina had been angry before, now she is furious. She had never doubted he'd intended to rape her, but she'd kept control of her emotions. At first she had held back, in the interest of 'diplomacy', then started to hit harder as the violence increased. Now fury gets the better of her as he leaps for her.

She expects him to go for the rest of her uniform and catches his right hand, twisting it as hard as she can. She raises her foot and brings it down with all her strength into his shin. Then, keeping her grip on his hand, she steps back and kicks him again in the stomach, then as hard as she can across his face, reversing the kick an instant later to bring her heel back across his jaw.

She lets him go as he staggers back. Not even bothering to pull her uniform closed, she gives up trying to reason with him, steps forward to get longer reach and kicks him as hard as she can in her long chosen target--

which has absolutely no effect.

Momentarily surprised, she is caught completely off guard as his fist comes in and slams into her face. Stunned, she staggers back but can not get her arms up fast enough to ward off a second punch which knocks her even further back.

He grabs her uniform, yanking her forward. She barely has time to see it coming when his fist hits her so hard she is knocked off her feet to slam onto the deck.

Dina is stunned by the impact, having landed flat on her back so hard her breath is knocked out of her. She lies on the deck, unable to get her arms and legs to respond. She feels, as a distant sensation, his hands at her hips and her uniform pulled apart so viciously it rends with a loud tearing. But it is the feel of his hands clutching her black shirt and pulling it completely apart that breaks through her stupor a moment before she feels her bra snapped violently in half.

Shaking her head, trying desperately to clear it, she sees he has shredded her uniform and feels his hands on her panties, ripping the fragile material from her. Fury and terror clear her mind and she sits up, raises her hand, fingers stiff in a way similar to T'Pol's Vulcan greeting and she drives her long nails directly toward his eyes.

In the last instant he ducks his head and her sharp nails rake two deep furrows down his forehead. Before she can try again his hand comes up to grab her gaping uniform and yanks her closer so hard her head snaps back. She gets her head down in time to see his fist as it crashes into her face; and in almost the same instant the back of her head slams into the steel deck.

Blackness envelopes her; a blackness through which she is only semi-aware of what is happening to her, but cannot move to prevent it.

* * *

In the corridor outside, Captain Archer and Trip Tucker are just passing, having left the Teer to his contemplations in D/147, right next door,.

"I'm not sure I like it." Trip says. "I can't put my finger on it, but I have the weirdest feeling about this deal."

Archer stopped before the forward turbolift, looking at his friend. "I have the exact same feeling, like a nagging voice in the back of my mind that won't shut up, and won't speak loudly enough to be heard."

"Well, let me know when yours speaks up. In the meantime, I'll keep worrying."

"Are you sure you don't know what it is?"

"Well, there's the Teer. He's a pretty shrewd negotiator. He's finding out what we have before he asks for what he wants. He won't ask for anything. He's waitin' for us to commit ourselves."

"I got that too." Archer agrees, pushing the button to open the turbolift door, stepping aboard followed by Trip. "But when you come down to it, we really _need_ that topaline. I'm just hoping that whatever price he asks is not more than Starfleet is willing to pay."

The turbolift door closes and the car carries them upward toward the bridge.

No one hears the bloodcurdling shriek that slices through the bulkhead.

* * *

In the gym, only thirty meters from Tia Anlor's quarters on E-deck, Hoshi Sato, Liz Cutler and Tia are just coming out of the shower/changing room, each of them clad in shorts and halters. The garments are not tight but still mold to their bodies like a second skin, and Liz tries to avoid showing a slight disappointment at the fact that they have the room all to themselves. More so that Jim Cien is on a different shift this week.

This is their regular workout time during afternoon break, but usually there are several others of the crew with them after Alpha Shift's lunch period. This time, however, they are alone. Liz refrains from allowing her disappointment to show. She secretly enjoys the looks from her male colleagues, even if she pretends not to notice while they pretend not to look. It is all part of the 'game', the mention of which had once left Hoshi annoyed and Tia bewildered.

As Tia sets up the programming on the treadmill, Liz starts a series of stretching exercises while Hoshi sits at the weights bench, setting the pin at a moderate 40 kilos, far less than a challenge. Bracing her back against the chair's rest, she grabs the hand rings and shoves hard, almost slamming the weights to full extension.

"Take it easy; you're going to hurt something." Liz advises.

"It's only 40 kays."

"Not you; I was talking about the equipment." Hoshi gives her friend a sour look.

Tia steps onto the treadmill and starts to run. She is used to long-distance running, and had once astonished her friends by maintaining a steady flat out run at the maximum speed of the machine for a staggering thirty kilometers. These days she limits herself to ten; and the breakneck speeds are now intermingled with a more normal variety of paces.

"I promise not to break the weights." Hoshi says sourly, shoving the left one with all her strength until it jumps in the track to ram loudly into the metal top and comes back down hard. She barely keeps it from slamming her arm back.

Liz looks at her, surprised. Hoshi had been sullen all through lunch, telling them hardly anything about the hours spent on the surface, which was unusual for her. Normally, after a planetary stop, no matter who went down, each of them knew all the details the others had experienced. Now Hoshi had kept herself to a bare report, offering no details, clearly leaving a tremendous amount out; like the reason for her sullenness.

"All right, Hosh, you're acting like your PMS is on warp drive. Care to tell me what's bothering you?"

"No." She shoves with both hands, and the weights almost hit the top of the track.

"All right." Cutler repeats, coming up to her. "You don't have to talk about it, but it's obvious you need more than what _this_ machine can do for you."

"Then what machine do I need?" Liz's lips move in three silent syllables, but even though Hoshi smiles, she does so sourly. "Even _that_ wouldn't help right now."

"Actually you look more like you need more than a machine. You need a _real_ workout. Come on." She urges with a grin. "Get up."

"Why?" Liz reaches out, 'slapping' three fingers against Hoshi's cheek. Hoshi gapes at her, astonished. "Liz, wha-?" Liz, grinning, 'slaps' her other cheek with three fingers and dances back out of reach as Hoshi tries to brush her off. "What the hell are you -?" Liz comes in fast, her fingertips 'thumping' against Hoshi's forehead before she is again out of reach, back onto the mat. "Oh, you've really _had it_!" Hoshi exclaims without any anger as she gets off the seat. Liz grins at her, dancing lightly back as Hoshi comes onto the mat, raising her fists.

"Come on. Let's see what you've got that's burning a hole in your -!" She is cut off, dodging to her right to avoid Hoshi's fist. "That's it. Come on. Let it all out." She ducks under another 'attack', returning one that makes Hoshi draw back.

Tia watches her friends spar, seeing the difference in them. While Liz's manner is almost 'playful', dancing lightly on her feet to dodge the linguist's attacks, Hoshi holds herself tightly, an unexpressed anger just below the surface.

Hoshi feints with a punch to the face which Liz avoids, avoiding just as easily a high kick that sails over her head. "That the best you can do?" She asks as she dances back. "Too much time on the bridge is making you soft."

Hoshi blocks a punch, launching one of her own that fails to get past her friend's defense. She continues with a fast left that she would have sworn just grazes Liz's cheek, but the other shows no sign of it. "You couldn't _handle_ the best I could do!" She retorts.

"Let's find out." Liz ducks low, comes in under her guard and rams her fist deep into Hoshi's stomach.

* * *

Hoshi clutches her stomach, doubled over with a long, agonized groan, eyes wide in shock as the breath is knocked out of her and she slowly falls to her knees, as much in surprise as from the hard punch. She looks up at Liz, gasping, unable to get her breathing rhythm back as she gapes up at her friend, astonished. The woman had not held back one bit.

"Liz!" She gasps breathlessly. She can not believe it; Liz had truly _punched_ her. That was a serious attack. "What the f--?" She has to dive to the side as Liz aims a vicious kick right at her face. Hoshi rolls and is up on her feet, arms up to shield herself. She'd heard the rush of air; that kick would have knocked a tooth out had she not avoided it.

"Mad enough yet?" Liz asks. She aims another fast kick at Hoshi's head, but Sato grabs her ankle at the last instant, twisting and pushing Liz off balance.

" _You_ figure it out!" Hoshi comes in before her friend can recover, but her fist misses by almost a millimeter as Liz dodges to the side, blocking as hard as she can. Liz is surprised at how hard she had to block; there had been enough behind that punch to lay her out had it connected. Unfortunately for the Biologist, Hoshi is not done, continuing the momentum into a turn that brings her in close, her elbow getting under the woman's guard to ram into her ribs, staggering Liz several feet back.

"Better!" Liz exclaims when she regains her balance, clutching her side. Hoshi does not pursue her advantage, giving her friend a chance to find her footing before she comes in with a fist barely blocked before it reached Cutler's jaw, and Hoshi blocks an almost simultaneous blow to her chest. They draw a step apart, circling one another, fists up, seeking an opening. "Now, what happened down there to get you in such a mood?" She asks, aiming for Hoshi's jaw, a stunning punch barely blocked in time. "Should have seen that one coming."

Hoshi's foot came out, catching Liz just below her left knee, driving her back, knocking her off her feet, forcing her to roll out to get back up. "Should have seen that one coming." Hoshi retorts as Liz favors her knee.

"Must have really been something; you're playing dirty."

"That's not dirty. I can _show_ you dirty!"

"Why don't you?" Liz asks, aiming a kick at Hoshi's stomach that she barely pulls out of range of. She continues about, a high roundhouse kick Hoshi barely blocks with both raised forearms, the impact jarring her. Catching her leg, forcing Liz to balance on one foot, Hoshi aims three fast faux kicks to the back of Liz's legs, her lower back and behind her head, not touching but showing what could have happened had she connected before she lets go of Liz's leg.

"Had enough 'dirty' for one day."

"Tell me." Liz comes in, grabbing Hoshi's arm, but her friend pulls out of the grip, moving to twist Liz's own arm back behind her but Liz slips away. As they trade and block punches and kicks, Hoshi begins the story of the shockingly intimate 'First Contact' with 'representatives' of the Capellans.

* * *

"Doesn't sound so bad." Liz decides when it is over, ducking under an irate swing from her friend. "They might have started out shooting."

"It is absolutely _disgusting_!" Hoshi exclaims. "They are all over them!" Liz tries to kick her in her ribs, but Hoshi catches the woman's leg, twisting and shoving her off balance. Liz rolls on the mat back up to her feet. "I wonder; if I weren't there, what would have happened!" Hoshi says tightly.

Liz closes the distance between them, feinting high and then coming low in an attempt to use her foot to sweep Hoshi's legs out from under her, but Sato jumps just in time, forcing Liz to take a step back. "What, no men for your 'receptance'?"

" _Certainly not_! One of them offered; I told her I'd break her hand."

Liz aims a fast punch to Hoshi's stomach, but she deflects it, coming in instead with a fist aimed at Liz's face, which is barely blocked in time. "Not very 'diplomatic' of you."

"You weren't there." Hoshi swings a backhand punch at Liz again, but the woman catches her wrist, Hoshi grabs hers in turn and Liz clutches Hoshi's arm, both women straining as all four arms are locked together almost as one.

"What's _really_ eating you?" Liz asks, her voice showing the strain as they lock together, each bearing down on the other. "Did you really think the men are going to take advantage of the offer?"

" _No, damn it_!" Hoshi says tightly, trying to lean into the grip, force her friend down to her knees even as she resists Liz's efforts to do the same. "I knew they _wouldn't_. And Captain Archer did not allow it." She manages to get a slight advantage, driving Liz downward inch by inch.

"No surprise there." Liz fights harder, her voice stressed as they strain against one another, forcing her way up again and fighting to drive Hoshi down, their bodies hard against each other as they fight for advantage. They are almost equally strong; neither can gain over the other though neither eases the contest. "So, if you didn't believe they would fall on them like a pack of rabid targs, what's got you so mad?"

"Those Capellans! They use their women as sex objects! The men are _expected_ to use them! The way everyone talked, that's the way they do things! The women have no rights, no dignity! They're not 'receptance'--they're _receptacles_!"

"No rights?" Liz asks, barely able to speak clearly--both women are being forced down by the increasing pressure as Hoshi's anger grows and Liz bears down in return, straining as hard as she can to match her friend's strength. "No dignity? You sure of that?"

"No." She admits, fighting even harder as the strength of her argument weakened. "But how can they? They are _used_."

"Different cultures. Who are we to say what compensations there are? And women have been used as sex objects on Earth for thousands of years. Sometimes we even _enjoy_ it."

* * *

Hoshi is shocked at her friend's viewpoint and Liz takes advantage of her hesitation to fall backward unexpectedly, Hoshi falling forward over her onto the mat and the two women roll across the mat. Liz, on top at the end of the roll with Hoshi landing face down, comes up on one knee, grabs Hoshi's ankle and pulls back, bending it up as she puts her own knee onto Hoshi's back, pinning her down, pulling her leg back up just to the limit of Hoshi's endurance as she yelps in pain. "Should have done some stretches first." Liz reminds her as she clutches the woman's ankle, bending back. Her foot is braced on the mat beside Hoshi's head.

"I'll stretch you! Let me up!" She yelps as Liz forces her leg a half inch further.

"Nope. Not 'till you admit it."

"Admit what?" She demands, pushing up off the floor in an effort to break the hold, but Liz kneels harder into her back.

"I think the reason you're so _mad_ is that Tribe Akaar now thinks that you perform your services to this ship on your _back_!"

" _No_!" She fights harder, trying to push herself up, but Liz has her pinned, her foot braced up by Hoshi's head so she cannot get any leverage. "I'm _mad_ because those women--because that entire culture uses them without regard for them as women; without any dignity for them. They are playthings and pawns and--." Hoshi screams shrilly as Liz bends her leg back all the way; then eases up a moment later.

"Bull! I know you too well. You're as in favor of equality as the rest of us but you've had the same 'other cultures; other norms' speeches I did, and probably a hell of a lot more often. You're not changing anything. This is not about civil liberty; this is _personal_. Admit it!"

" _Damn_ you!" Hoshi tries to fight her way up, but Liz pulls harder, forcing her back to the mat. "All right, _yes_! It's not just the Capellans; it's watching this happen all my _life_! It just makes me so _mad_ when I see women used like playthings. Like pawns! Now let me _up_. Come on; this is dirty fighting!"

"No 'tisn't. I could _show_ you dirty fighting."

"No. Why don't _I_ show _you_?" Hoshi pushes herself up off the mat far enough to reach up to the smallest part of Liz's shorts, pinching hard. Liz shrieks, leaping away and rolling to her feet just as Hoshi regains her own.

"You're right!" Liz exclaims breathlessly, circling her adversary again, moving very carefully. "That _is_ dirty fighting. But I wouldn't worry about what the Capellans think if I were you."

"I'm _not_ worried."

"We know you're a virtuous woman."

"Thank you!"

"You're only a _slut_ on your weekends."

* * *

Outraged, Hoshi swings a vicious right at her friend, but Liz grabs her arm, turning into the swing and pulling Hoshi off balance and over her body, slamming the Linguist hard onto her back on the mat.

Hoshi lays stunned, breath knocked out of her, unable to try to move as Liz sits down hard next to her. Looking down at her friend, Liz shakes her head. "And you say I have to watch _my_ temper." She says breathlessly. "Looks like I finally found your button."

Hoshi nods, her breath just starting to come back. "Enough." She whispers, breathing hard. "I give."

"Good. I was getting pooped." She sighs, breathing heavily as well. "You know," she says wistfully, looking at the door, "I just wish Seamus would walk in here right now."

"Why?" Hoshi asked suspiciously.

"So I can find out if that Capellan is right; if you really _do_ do your best work on your back."

Hoshi pushes herself up onto her elbows, glaring up at the grinning woman. " _Listen, you_ \--!" But Liz has her hands held up placatingly and Hoshi decides she doesn't want to be mad anymore. Several times this 'workout' had come a bit too close to the real thing for her liking.

"I just hope that while they're here the Capellans don't expect us to return their favor." Liz says. Hoshi feels a chill go through her body, but forcibly dismisses it.

"I'm sure the Captain will make it very plain to the Teer. He's already told them this is not our custom. We are _not_ up for grabs."

"Pity." Liz sighs. "Seven feet tall?" She asks with a speculative tone. Hoshi nods. "I wonder if they're proportional."

Hoshi lets herself fall back to the mat with a sigh, thoroughly exasperated.

* * *

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed walks toward the turbolift on D deck on his way to his quarters one level below, thinking intently of his bunk and long awaited pillow. It had been a very long day, having started early in Gamma Shift, and though it is only midway through Alpha he only wants to rest. He intends only to nap for an hour, as there is no way he is about to be away from his post while on duty with a tense negotiation session in the works.

He is not paying particular attention when a door ahead and to his right slides open. There is nothing unusual about that to snag his attention from his much anticipated destination until a naked woman staggers out into the corridor in front of him.

He halts, surprised; naked women in the corridor being vastly uncommon. But his surprise turns to astonishment as he recognizes Ensign Dina Samuels. An instant later he takes her in; her long brown hair completely disheveled, both eyes blackened and face bruised, swollen and bloody. Trails of red blood flow down her face, dripping down her body as she staggers to him and collapses into his arms!

He holds her upright against his body, the realization that she is unconscious coming just as the turbolift door a few meters ahead opens and two crewmen exit, stopping short at the unexpected sight of the Armory Officer hugging a naked woman. Then they go even more still, their expressions alerting Malcolm to the extent of the situation as they notice a trail of blood leading from the doorway and also flowing down her legs.

A movement to the side draws their attentions to the still open door. Framed within, looking at them with an air of cool curiosity, stands Saal, Second Maav of the Capellan delegation.


	5. Trauma

Jonathan Archer strode into Sick Bay, doing his very best to hide a towering fury. When Lt. Reed had contacted him minutes ago he had just set down Porthos' dinner plate, and he'd listened in monumental disbelief to his Security Chief's report. That report had filled him with rage. He'd spent the entirely of the fast walk just trying to get his expression, his manner, under control. It would do no good to let anyone see his emotional response or to give vent to that response, but inside his feelings were volcanic.

When he'd passed two Crewmen on the way and they'd actually withdrawn a step as he passed, he tried even more strongly for an outward control. Now, as he arrived, not slacking his pace as he strode in, he had to admit to himself that he did not yet have it.

He found Phlox alone in the main room. "Phlox." His voice was low; the loudest he could make it was just barely audible. If he tried for any louder, he would start shouting.

The Denobulan looked up at him, his expression grim. "She's in my office. I've asked Ensign Cutler to sit in with her." Archer knew they both worked in Life Sciences, so he considered it a good choice.

"How is she?" 

"Her injuries are considerable, but she is unwilling to let me touch her, or even get near her."

"How badly was she injured?"

Phlox hesitated, uncomfortable. "Aside from the injuries sustained in trying to fight off her attacker, there are, well...On your world they used to say 'size doesn't matter'. Believe me, Captain, it does."

Archer did not answer; there was no need to. As he tried to bury the mental image the Denobulan's words created, he also tried to bury his mounting anger.

He succeeded at neither.

"How is she now?"

Phlox shook his head. "Unresponsive." His eyes flickered to a door, as much as to say he had given all the answers he had. He led the way, Archer working harder at getting his expression under control.

When the door opened, it was to a small office, just enough room for a desk with a computer terminal and two chairs. The one from behind the desk had been brought out, close to the other, and in that far one Elizabeth Cutler sat perched on its edge, her manner solicitous yet non-invasive.

In the chair closer to the door sat Dina Samuels, her body completely enshrouded in a large blue blanket that was held clutched tightly about her. She held her gaze downward, determinedly not looking at anyone. She did not seem to be breathing, holding herself totally motionless, her entire body silently screaming. Her face, from what they could see from the profile turned to them, was bruised and swollen. Cutler had managed to clean the blood from her mouth, nose and cheeks, but had been unable to do more. Dina had barely allowed her touch in doing that much.

Liz looked up at them long enough to give the smallest possible shrug. She turned her attention back to Dina, her voice so soft they could barely hear her. "Dina?" There was no reaction at all, and she tried again just as softly. "Dina? Captain Archer is here." The woman's only reaction was a quick quarter-gasp, instantly silenced. She bit her lower lip between her teeth, not releasing it, using it to keep silent. A fine trembling enveloped her body.

"Dina?" Archer said, taking his tone from Cutler. Very slowly he entered the small room, dropping down to one knee beside the woman. She did not move, but when Archer's body came into her field of vision only her eyes shifted as she sought a new spot in the room that had no one in it. She started to tremble even more, her soft breath shuddering. Archer backed away a bit, allowing her to look into her original safe spot. He looked at Cutler, then Phlox, seeking some clue to guide him.

When he'd knelt beside her, he'd finally seen her full on. Both her eyes were blackened and swollen, and though the blood had been washed from her face her lower lip and cheeks were both cut. She looked so different from when he'd seen her barely more than an hour ago.

"Dina?" Cutler said softly. "Captain Archer will not hurt you. He's here to help you." She paused, finding no reaction, except that the trembling had diminished as he'd withdrawn. "He's your friend."

Archer cast a surprised look at the Exobiologist. Cutler was treating her colleague, an eminently capable scientist, as though she were a child. But reflecting on the experience the woman had suffered, he decided this was probably the best course to ease through the walls that shock had erected around the woman.

"Dina? Can you talk to me?" He asked softly. Her eyes flickered further away. Heartsick, he remembered the last long conversation he'd had with the woman. "You once told me that you do not run." He reminded her gently. "That you would stand and fight, and that you would kick the balls of any enemy if you could."

She closed her eyes tightly, and her body trembled more. She made a soft sound that might have been a sob if she'd permitted it to take form. But then when she opened her eyes she looked further away from him.

"You're a strong woman. You need to tap that strength." He put his hand out, reaching for hers. Both Cutler and Phlox exclaimed an urgent warning just as his hand crossed into her vision, almost touching her.

Dina's earsplitting screech deafened everyone in the small room as she launched herself out of the chair, her fist slamming into Archer's face. Only the fact that she was almost cocooned in the blue blanket dulled the blow, but then the blanket fell from her bare body and she was free of it, screaming wildly as she attacked him with a whirlwind of punches and kicks that drove the astonished man back before Liz Cutler grabbed her! She threw her arms about the wildly raging woman's naked body, trying to pin her arms to her sides as Archer withdrew out of range to where Phlox stood in the doorway. He was astounded. For all her distress, Dina had managed to land quite a few strong blows.

Liz tried to keep a desperate grip on the unclothed woman as she continued to scream cries of murderous rage, trying her best to kick her Captain, her bare foot coming only inches too short. "Get out of here!" She urged the men, barely managing to hold on to the wildly struggling woman. As they withdrew out the door, Dina's murderous fury was frustrated, and in a few more seconds her mad strength faded. Her legs gave out and Liz did not have to hold so tightly, changing her grip to one of support as the woman slowly sank to the floor. Liz knelt, holding Dina as she wept, her body wracked by torrential sobs.

Liz stretched her hand out for the blanket just barely in reach as she glanced up, seeing the two just beyond the doorway, distressed concern etched on their faces. "Captain, please, won't you two just get _out_ of here?" She drew the blanket over the weeping woman's nude body, holding her and rocking her gently as Dina clung to her, pouring out her wounded grief. They backed away, Phlox pressing the button to close the door. The outer room was utterly silent.

"Come, Captain, I'll get you something for those bruises you're going to have."

xx

In the twenty minutes that passed, even while Phlox was working to prevent the results of Dina's 'defense' from becoming too apparent on Archer's face, Malcolm Reed had arrived to give his report.

Archer did not comment on the bloodstains near the shoulder of his uniform.

"Sir, he does not deny it. In fact, near as I can tell with Capellans, he seems to feel nothing is wrong. He says he thought she was his 'receptance'. Apparently, when she put up a fight, he was sure she was. Apparently it was implicit in the orders you gave her."

Archer felt an icy hand grip his heart as he reviewed his words here so short a time before! He could find nothing in them that would have led to that conclusion--that would have led a human to that conclusion. But inside, the horror grew as he realized that in dealing with a new culture...

No! He had _not_ sent her off to this fate! These Capellans might try some type of doubletalk, but...

"I have him locked in his quarters under heavy guard. If it were up to me he'd be in the brig, but I figured that should come from you." There was heavy restraint in the man's tone.

Archer looked at him closely. He'd known Reed far too long. "The brig?" He asked, knowing that had not been Reed's first choice.

"An airlock." Reed admitted, not wanting to have been found being less than regulation, but pleased to be able to admit an honest answer.

The main doors behind him opened again and a woman entered. This one, rather than being clad in the regulation Starfleet uniform, wore black trousers and a royal blue shirt, the high collar of which was a round band of white about her throat. From a short 'V' of blue which matched the shirt hung a conjoined red Roman, white Malta and black and gold Temple cross. "I felt under the circumstances..." Reed began, not even having to look behind himself. Archer raised his hand to cut off the unnecessary explanation.

"Thank you for coming, Mother McCabe. I was, in fact, just about to send for you. We're going to need your help on this."

"I'll do what I can, Captain." Seeing the work Phlox was doing, she allowed the question to be read plainly in her eyes.

"It appears Miss Samuels is still quite capable of handling herself." Archer explained. He glanced at Reed. "A testament to your training."

"I only wish..." He began, but had no words to finish it.

Phlox turned from his work on Archer's face. "Mother McCabe, have you had much experience in dealing with rape trauma?"

"Far too much for my liking."

x

She was spared any explanation as the door to Phlox's office opened again. Elizabeth Cutler stood in the opening, her body blocking any view within. She was not unduly surprised to see that the number of people had doubled. "Captain?" Archer stepped up to her, pitching his voice low in hopes he could keep it from carrying back into the room.

"Is she..."

"Lucid, sir. She's asking to see you." Her eyes flickered to the others. "Alone." She was well conscious of the fact that as a Life Sciences Ensign only peripherally a member of Phlox's staff she faced down the ship's Commander, Chief of Security, Chief Medical Officer and Chaplain, none of whom she could bar. "It's a small room." She told them by way of 'explanation'.

"Quite right, Ensign." He was about to step past her, but stopped. "I'd like you to keep yourself available." He told her softly, his meaning clear. She had already been performing her service as an 'Advocate', even to properly throwing them out of the room earlier, and he wanted her to continue doing so.

"Aye, sir. I'll be there." She stepped aside, letting him into the room.

x

When the door closed behind him Jonathan Archer stood looking at Dina. She was once again in the same chair, swaddled about with the voluminous blue blanket; but this time her eyes, when she looked up at him, showed that she was in the room with him.

"Captain, I am _sorry_!" She said feelingly. "I just couldn't control myself. I'm sorry!" Archer was sure there were no marks upon his face to fuel her guilt.

"Nothing against you, En--Dina. Put it completely out of your mind."

"Thank you, sir."

The silence seeded, took root and grew.

"Are you able to talk about this?"

She pressed her lips together tightly, holding back her answer. Finally; "I know all too well I'll be talking about it a lot in the next few days." She hung her head, her brown hair curtaining her face. "A lot."

The silence came to full bloom, and it was all too clear she was not ready to begin. He did not push her. He knew that, once begun, it would be a long time before the ending. He let her choose her own time. Finally, when she met his eyes again, some of the fire he knew was back.

"Captain, tell me why we're here. Please. Tell me why we're _dealing_ with these people!"

"Starfleet has found this planet is rich in topaline." 

She nodded, but it was a resigned gesture. "Life support systems use a lot of topaline. It's an excellent filter for almost any organic and inorganic matter, but oxygen passes through like it's not even there." He knew then that she was still partially in shock; her summation had been almost right out of a textbook, as if she were remembering the words without thinking about them. She sat quietly for a long moment, looking at her clenched hands even under the blanket as they clutched the material closed tightly about her. Finally her eyes came up to him. "Is Starfleet satisfied with the price?"

x

He did not answer her bitter question, knowing it would do no good. The question did not come from the better part of her, the part that knew Starfleet would never consider such a 'price'. There was no way to answer it.

Personally he felt that the 'price' was already far too high.

The silence grew painful, the fruit it was bearing bitter indeed.

"Lt. Reed, Phlox and Mother McCabe are all outside. I've asked Ensign Cutler to also be available for you twenty four hours a day."

"Thank you, Captain." She said very softly, staring at the floor.

"Is there anything you need?"

"Captain, there's only one thing I need. Only one thing I _want_!" She shook her head, not raising her eyes. "And you and I both know Starfleet is never going to give it to me."

"What is it?" He asked, determined that if it was in his power to give, she would have it. She looked up at him, her eyes deadly.

"I want his penis in Chef's meat grinder!"


	6. Confrontations

Captain Jonathan Archer stopped outside quarters D/147 and took a deep breath, fighting down his emotions to the point where they were under his control, with little risk of the other. Flanking him was Sub-Commander T'Pol, there for an unemotional, pragmatic input and Commander Charles Tucker, his closest friend, there for some down home observations and to keep him on a level. To his right, in front of room D/145, stood two armed Security Officers. He acknowledged them with a nod as they stood guard over the delegate / prisoner.

Taking another deep, steadying breath, he raised his hand to the door controls, finding it clenched into a tight fist. He forced himself to relax, to open his hand, to put on a diplomatic mask, and pressed the annunciation button.

A few seconds later, the door slid open and Archer found himself face to chest with Kapaar, First Maav. He looked up, meeting the Capellan's eyes. "I want to speak to the Teer." He was glad that these people were direct in all their dealings; he was in no mood for the flowery language of diplomacy.

"Captain Archer may enter." The voice of the tribal leader came from within the room and Kapaar stood aside. Akaar was seated in a chair as Archer strode into the room, and the man showed no intent to stand, something that Archer was quite content with. He had no desire to crane his neck looking at the tall alien. "I am told," Akaar began without preliminary, "that my Second Maav is not permitted to leave his room."

"Your Second Maav _raped_ one of my officers."

Even as he said it, the words felt strange in Archer's mouth. They were so provocative he would never have imagined using them in a diplomatic session--until now.

"Are we not guests in your vessel? The custom of receptance -."

"Is one you _knew_ we do not practice!" Archer forced himself to pause, trying not to let his outrage get the better of him--yet. "It is not an Earth custom; I made that quite clear to you before you boarded."

"Then, if we have exceeded your hospitality, I apologize. And now, Captain, to the subject of this topaline you seek..."

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Archer demanded. "This is not 'exceeding hospitality'. This is an affront to one of my officers!"

"If she is your woman, is it not right for her to perform service on your behalf?"

Archer stared at Akaar, so outraged as to be stricken nearly speechless. "You don't understand. First, the...forceful...sexual..." He gave up trying to work out how to make himself clear. "The _rape_ of a woman is, to humans, intolerable. It is not permitted!"

"Why? Even if Saal did not understand your earlier instructions on your small ship about the custom of receptance, why have this concern over the taking of a woman?"

"Because it is forbidden!" Archer said tightly, trying his very best to keep control of his tone.

"You mean for a human to put women to their primary use."

"Yes." He grated, infuriated even more at this cavalier attitude.

"Fortunately, we are not human. Now, as to the matter of Saal's release, you will of course grant him his liberty."

How Jonathan Archer ever kept his temper he was never sure. His voice was quieted in such a deadly quality that if he raised it the Capellan would fall lifeless at his feet. "No. Saal stays in his room, under guard, while you are here. He has violated one of our most basic laws, to say nothing of abusing hospitality to almost staggering proportions."

"I do not agree."

"You are not on your world. You are on my starship."

Akaar stared up at him. If by remaining seated he had thought to put himself in a position of power, he quickly realized that it did him no good. Archer was as much in command here, even though being 'obliged' to stand, as Akaar was on the surface.

Or perhaps maybe humans saw things differently. Maybe in standing, Archer saw himself in the position of power. It was something to consider--later.

Right now, there was no loss in conceding a point that could be won later. Further, it would not do well for him to admit that he valued or needed the advice of his two Maavs equally. "Very well, Saal may stay where he is." He said, inclining his head just the slightest, trying to project the image of a sovereign granting a tiny concession to a subject, not like how he really felt.

"And now, Captain, as to the matter of the topaline, I have some questions regarding its use, particularly how much you will be wanting, and how it is to be gathered and from where."

Archer settled his mind into the negotiation, trying to push aside his sustained outrage and get into the business. Hopefully things could be wrapped up soon, and he could bid an eagerly sought farewell to these three.

Privately, he doubted the universe would be so kind.

* * *

In the Mess Hall at 1700 that evening, at Alpha Shift's dinner, the room was fairly crowded, though the conversation was normally low. Thus, the sound of the door opening could be heard clearly, and even the low tones of sporadic conversations were diminished when Dina Samuels entered. Though what had happened earlier that day was not open news, it was something that was impossible to keep silent, and nearly half the people in Alpha Shift knew about it. Dina could hear it in their silence; see it on their faces, in the solicitous looks of sympathy or support she saw.

She'd allowed Phlox's touch, with Mother McCabe present for moral support, as he'd treated the blackened eyes and swollen face, and the other more intimate and humiliating wounds, but it was only her body that had been healed.

She was humiliated with herself for having reached out to McCabe, feeling it a sign of weakness, but she could not stand to have Phlox treat her without the other woman's support. So she had allowed it, grateful and humiliated though she was by every aspect of the situation.

Now she was released, declared physically fit though relieved of duty until further notice, with promises of help from her friends. Those promises were humiliating in themselves, though she was grateful for them.

Now she stood just inside the door of the Mess Hall, having forced herself to come in. She did not know why she was here; she wasn't hungry and was sure she would never be hungry again. She was here because it was Seventeen-Hundred and she had to be somewhere. She'd forced herself to come in, forced herself now to stay, but she could not manage to force herself to step in.

She just wanted to turn and leave, but would not. She had never run from a fight, from a hardship, from a challenge, and this time was going to be no different! She'd lost a fight, been beaten and ra--she'd been ra--but she would not give in! She would not show weakness. She'd been beaten; she'd been ra--. She would _not_ show weakness!

Forcing a mask of nonchalance onto her face, she looked around the room, spotting Trip Tucker at a table with Hoshi Sato, Liz Cutler and Tia Anlor. She strolled over to them with strictly enforced casualness. "Hi, everybody." She said brightly. They greeted her, noting her high mood. 

x

"How are you?" Liz asked. Of all the people in the large room, she alone knew all the details, acting as she had as 'Advocate' for her friend and Life Sciences associate.

"Well, I'm relieved of duty for a while, so I'm kind of on a mini-vacation for a day or so." She looked at Trip, shaking her head in mild disapproval. "Commander, if you get any longer, I'm going to have to requisition a violin for you."

"Excuse me?" He asked, quite lost. She seemed exceptionally; unexpectedly cheerful. When he had found out what had happened to her, he'd wanted to join his good buddy Malcolm in solving the problem with an airlock; so this casualness in her, and that odd statement, caught him completely off guard.

"Your hair." Dina said in explanation. "It's crossing the border from scruffy to I-don't-know-what." He ran his hand through his short hair. It was quite in regulation, and she had fixed him up not three weeks ago. "Really, what are people going to think, you running around like you should have a ribbon in your hair? You should come down to the shop and let me fix you up." Her manner was so relaxed, so casual, that it could be read all the way across the room for the fragile sham it was.

Trip looked up at her, her message to him thoroughly clear. "You know, I think you're right." He agreed. "I'm overdue for a trim." He glanced at the others; they had not missed the intended message either. "See you later, ladies."

He touched Tia's hand as he stood up and followed the smiling woman out of the room.

x

Hoshi, Liz and Tia were about to speculate upon this unusual event when the three women at the table next to them stood up, two leaving the room immediately, Jennifer Farber from Geology going to another table where a man and woman were seated, the dark woman bending over to whisper something into the other woman's ear. Jennifer then went to another table, speaking quietly to the two women there. A moment later she came over to the table where the trio sat watching. "Women's meeting, here, twenty three hundred. Women only." Without waiting for questions, she turned and left the room.

"What was that all about?" Liz asked.

Hoshi shrugged. "We'll find out at twenty three hundred."

* * *

Trip walked along the corridor with a very animated and vibrant Dina Samuels, and was not fooled for an instant. Her manner was so much more than like her old self it seemed almost a parody of it, as if she were trying to force her own natural behavior, her own mannerisms, when they just did not want to come.

He was patient, however. When she got him alone she would certainly relax and tell him what was on her mind. Until then, he let her keep up a steady stream of empty, pleasant chatter about nothing at all.

They turned right after a short distance and strolled down the corridor that cut across the saucer to its opposite side as if they did not have a care in the world. He listened with half an ear to her chatter, not sure if it was for his benefit, hers, or to mislead the occasional crewperson they passed that nothing was wrong. It was, he realized, actually all three, and he let it continue until they reached her 'shop'.

In reality, the 'barbershop' was nothing more than an unused storage compartment some eight feet square, barely room for a chair, a few shelves and a lighted mirror. It had been an afterthought when it was realized that the Enterprise's design had taken no pains to include facilities for keeping the crew from looking like 'beatnicks' less than six weeks out from Earth.

Dina, having some skill and willingness, had set the room up for her use in keeping the crew well groomed; for looking their best so that when they sought out strange new worlds, they would not look as though they had come from one.

x

They entered, the door closing behind them. Trip carefully avoided any change in expression as she locked it.

"Have a seat, Commander. This won't take long." She promised, shaking out a blue sheet and covering him with it as he faced the mirror.

"Never does. Especially when you did it less than three weeks ago."

She hesitated for a beat; then recovered quickly, taking her place behind him. "But you want to look your best for your lovely young lady, don't you?" He held up his hand to her reflection.

"Dina, I'd much rather you tell me what's on your mind."

"Nothing." She said lightly, her smile bright. It was almost as forced as a Vulcan's would be. "Really." She picked up a pair of scissors from the tray beside the chair. "I'm relieved of duty today. I've got nothing to do but sit in my room all day if I want. I figured I'd get some haircutting in, because I have to be useful somewhere, don't I?"

"Yes." Trip agreed carefully, not sure how to handle this. Her final words would normally have been expressed with frustration or anger, but those feelings were so tightly restrained, so forcibly buried, that he could barely find them. 

x

Trip tried to keep his own thoughts to himself, but it was hard. He recalled a day some weeks ago in this very room, when she had faced him down with a pair of scissors, willing to risk her career when she thought he was going to harm Tia Anlor. Now that fire and determination were lost under a mask of pleasantness, a veneer of calm and a flood of inane chatter. For all the lightness of her manner, she seemed equally fragile.

"Cutting hair; it's very relaxing. And so rewarding. I can see the fruits of my work everywhere I go. Not like lab work in Life Sciences. This is far more rewarding, don't you think? Everyone comes to me--absolutely everyone."

"Yes. And you do a good job."

"Thank you. You're so sweet, Trip. You know, Trip--I may call you Trip, may I?"

"Sure." She had always called him 'Commander', as befit an Ensign, but her 'casual' use of his nickname bespoke as much the fracturing of her self-control as anything else did.

"I got raped this afternoon and most of the ship knows it." Her tone was light, bright, and to Trip's ear sliding a touch to the hysterical. The word 'raped' had come out half an octave high. "I fought him...I _fought_ him...but it didn't work. I _did_ almost beat the hell out of the Captain, however! Did he tell you that?"

"No, he didn't." Trip carefully held his surprise as Dina, with comb and scissors, started working on the hairs behind his neck.

"Well, let's see. I ran into Lt. Reed after I got up; fainted dead away in his arms in fact. Bet he was surprised!" She tried to laugh, but it cracked instantly and she stopped. Behind it was a flood of grief she simply would not allow expression.

"I dare say." He agreed carefully as she stood motionless for a long moment. But then she regained--actually forced--her control and continued; pretending the slip had never happened.

"Then Liz, she was with me for a long time, and Phlox, he took care of me. But Liz is really a dear; she promised to be available to talk any time I want, day or night. Can you beat that? Then Captain Archer came in and I went battier than Phlox's bat!" She giggled at her own joke, but it was high and forced.

She continued working, but he wondered if she was actually cutting any hair, or just going through the motions. He watched her face in the mirror as she worked. Her expression was as bright as her voice was light, and both were like so much crystal. "And then Mother McCabe came in to talk, and I told--told her all--all about it." Her voice broke and her expression started to fracture as her hands grew uncertain, her movements vague. "There really was so...so much to _tell_. I mean, I got--raped, _didn't_ I?" Her voice broke again and she tried to regain her fracturing control.

But the harder she tried, the more elusive it became. Trip began to grow concerned by her increasingly chaotic hand movements while she was holding a pair of sharp scissors behind his neck, but said nothing. He tried to keep his expression calm and supportive.

"Then Lt. Reed came back in and I had to tell everything all over again, get all the details right, didn't I? I mean, I wanted to _forget_ , but I--I have--had to tell it all. The details, right? I had to get them right. Investigation and all. Diplomacy." Her voice was fracturing even more seriously. "Then, then I find out that - that it's all - so _Starfleet_ can get some topaline. Actually, a _lot_ of topaline!" She snapped sharply. "No, wait, I found out about that from the Captain. Not after I beat him up; the second time. Starfleet wants its topaline, you see. It's important. We use it--use it for life support systems; filters. Did you know that?"

"Yes." He said softly.

"So, Starfleet gets - its topaline, and all--all I - have to do - is get _raped_! Some deal, isn't it? Except I didn't know that part--part until it was all _over_! I just thought--I thought I was escorting some dignitaries to their quarters, you know? I didn't _know I_ was the _payment_!" Her voice broke completely and she backed away, her hands shaking violently. He turned around in the chair but did not come any closer. "Quite a deal - don't you think? Quite a--quite a - ." She didn't even seem to see him anymore as she began to tremble.

Trip reached out for the intercom panel. "Tucker to Phlox."

"Phlox here."

"You're needed in the barbershop."

"On my way." As he closed the circuit Dina looked up, seeming to see him again.

"I don't need Phlox!" Tears were trailing down her cheeks.

"He'll help you."

"I don't _need_ him!" She cried; barely held control shattering. Tears streamed down her eyes as she backed away, pleading. "I need...I need..."

"What?" Trip asked, getting up carefully, removing the blue cloth and putting it aside, not getting any closer; not wanting to crowd her. "What do you need? I'll get it. Whatever you need, I promise you'll have it."

"I need...I need...Oh GOD!" She cried, sobbing loudly as she fell slowly to her knees. " _Oh GOD, what I need_!"

She knelt looking up at him, unable to speak, silent tears streaming down her face.

* * *

"Dina, talk to me." He said in his gentlest tones. "It's just you and me. You locked the door so we could talk. I won't even let Phlox in if you don't want me to. We all want to help you. Just talk to me."

"I--I want to. I want to--to _trust_ you. Tia--she tells me--you can be _trusted_! You don't-- _hurt_ people. I need--need someone--I can _trust_!"

Trip came down on one knee so she would not have to look up at him, but kept close to the chair, trying not to crowd her. "Dina, talk to me." Dina tried not to sob, tried to keep her expression, her voice, under control, but her efforts fragmented her breath and shattered her voice.

"I'm not--not _weak_. Not like _this_!" She protested, reaching up to dry her eyes. But finding the scissors still in her right hand, she dropped them to the floor where they landed with a ringing clatter. She rubbed her eyes, her face, trying to erase the evidence of her tears. "I'm _stronger_ than this!"

"Yes, you are." He said softly.

"I won't be _broken_ \--but he bro--." She looked at him, pleading for his understanding. "He bro--. Do you have any idea _what_ he did to me?" Trip considered a comforting fabrication, but chose the truth instead.

"No, I don't think I really do."

She looked at him, blinking at stinging tears, grateful for his honesty. "He...he..." But she was unable to hold her fragile control any longer, and it broke as she started to sob, covering her face as long restrained and pent up emotions took their toll. 

Trip would have gone to the weeping woman, put his arm about her, attempt to comfort her, but he knew that was the worst thing he could try.

When the annunciation chime sounded, Trip stood up, unlocked and opened the door. Neither he nor Phlox, however, approached the woman as she knelt on the floor, weeping.


	7. Conclave

"I need your insight." Jonathan Archer told his First Officer in the Captain's Mess. They were off duty, if that phrase meant anything to the ship's two highest ranking officers, so he had chosen this venue rather than his Ready Room off the bridge.

Their meal was finished. He had not wanted to discuss this over dinner, feeling it was only going to congeal his food within him. He might have spared himself the concern--he had not tasted a single bite of whatever it was that he had eaten.

He looked down for a moment at his empty plate. The portion had been small at his request, but he would have had to embarrass himself by asking what it had been, even if he really cared to know.

"I shall be happy to assist."

There might have been a time when he would have called her on the 'happy' part, but that was long ago and another life. Now he needed the woman's level head as much as her emotionally controlled tones. "I presume this is in regard to Ensign Samuels' situation."

He nodded. "These Capellans, they act like they didn't do anything wrong."

"In their eyes they did not." T'Pol waited for the flash of outrage to fade from her Captain's eyes. She had long ago noted that sometimes the man sought her advice and dispassionate observations; then had trouble looking beyond his own emotional responses enough to take them. "I have examined the reports of not only the members of this crew but also those of the Bergman." The survey ship had left orbit not long after its Commander had returned, and they knew none of the incidents that had followed the return from the surface.

Archer found his right hand tightly clenched and forced himself to open it. "What did you find?" He tried to keep his question impassionate, and almost succeeded. Almost.

"Enough to draw two conjectures. The stated custom of 'receptance' seems to be superceded by the understanding that it is not a human custom, and should not have been expected. I understand you made this quite plain."

"I tried to. I thought I had."

"If they did understand, then this act by Saal would be a violation of hospitality. Unfortunately, we know too little of their customs to make a positive determination. Further, you may have made our position clear to the Teer, but did you do so to his subordinates?"

Archer thought carefully to his conversation aboard the Shuttlepod. He'd addressed himself to the Teer, but the others had been listening, though if he really had to say that they understood...Sometimes T'Pol's logic and restrained emotion could be an asset, sometimes a vast pain.

Seeing she was not going to get an immediate answer, T'Pol pressed on. "There is also the matter of how women in this culture are perceived and treated. Again, reports are inconclusive, but they seem to indicate different casts of women, even as they appear to have different casts of men. Details are sketchy at best; we know far too little about these people, but it seems that women play a subordinate, perhaps subservient role in this society. If so, they may well have expected that Ensign Samuels was assigned to perform a service, possibly above and beyond your stated instructions."

"Are you saying you think I might have sent her into this?"

"Lieutenant Reed's report does seem to indicate that this is likely."

T'Pol did not volunteer any more details. It was clear from the look on her Captain's face that she had gone as far on this point as she dared. There was a limit to even Archer's emotional equilibrium, and she could see that she had reached the limit of the stress that could be put upon it.

* * *

"Have you decided what course you will pursue?"

"I've contacted Starfleet Command to let them know what happened. As far as I'm concerned, this changes a lot. But I'm quite limited in my options. Admiral Black's orders don't say to negotiate and try to get the mining rights. His orders are to get the topaline."

"You appear to be in an unenviable position." T'Pol concurred, offering as much empathy as she was capable of permitting herself to show.

There was a soft note from the intercom. Archer reached over and pushed the button. "Yes?"

"Crewman Gandle, sir, on the bridge." The relief Helm Officer reported. "Sub-Commander T'Pol wanted to know when the computer was finished analyzing the data she'd collected."

"Thank you." He turned off the intercom.

"If you will excuse me, Captain."

"Of course."

* * *

When she stood up and opened the door, Commander Trip Tucker was on its other side. He was mildly surprised to have the door open before he'd pressed the annunciation button; T'Pol would never admit to such momentary surprise, no matter how minor. "Commander?"

"Hi." He looked past her. "Cap'n, do you have a minute?"

Archer did not want any more bad news and the look on his friend's face showed clearly that he was not bringing anything good. "Sure."

* * *

T'Pol excused herself again, leaving Trip and Archer alone. As Trip came in and took a seat, Archer gave him a moment to get settled, but only a moment. "What's gone wrong now?" 

"Nothing. That is, no more than before. Fact is, I'm trying to decide what to say." Trip admitted. "I'm sittin' on something that's really confidential, but it's somethin' you need to hear; and I'm just tryin' to figure out how to filter out the private stuff."

Jonathan Archer knew his friend very well; and had long learned that when the man was tense his Southern accent was more noticeable. It was a good barometer of the man's feelings, and right now it was thick enough to choke on. "I've always found," he began, "that the best way is to decide what will hurt the person you have a confidence with, and what will help. I presume it's Dina Samuels you're talking about." Trip nodded.

"She asked me to come to her shop on the pretext of getting a trim. She wanted to talk and I guess she felt safest there. She could lock the door." Archer nodded. "She told me a lot, most of which...well, she didn't ask it be kept secret, but she went to a lot of effort to tell me in privacy."

"I understand." He waited, letting the man decide what to say. There was a balance between what was confidential and what could help her more if it was out in the open, and he had to be very careful in deciding what things went on either side of that balance. Finally, there was only one thing left on one side.

"She...God, how do I say it? She believes she was _payment_ for the topaline."

Archer nodded dismally. "She expressed as much to me. I'd hoped it was bitterness talking. I didn't think she really and truly believed it."

"I honestly don't know what she believes. It might have been bitterness, but I doubt it. I don't know her really well, not as well as I'd like, or that I should; considering I'm Second Officer. I believed she had more objectivity than this, but a traumatic incident like this can shake your faith in a lot of things."

"I really wish I knew what to do for her." Archer said feelingly. "McCabe's the psychologist, I'm just winging it. We both are."

"I'd hate to think anyone would honestly think Starfleet would use them as 'payment' for anything. They're just not like that. Maybe it was bitterness talking; I don't know." He sighed feelingly. "What does Starfleet say about all this?"

"I had Hoshi send a message telling them everything, but we're so far out it'll take hours to get a reply. We'll just have to wait."

* * *

"In the meantime, what are you going to do?"

"About the Capellans? Another round of negotiations. We've been through weapons; titanium--I'm pretty certain they wanted swords; T4 water systems. Victor's prediction was right. I think Akaar's getting the point that we won't do anything that will affect the balance of power on that planet--if we can help it. The problem is; that's just want he wants to do. I'm going to offer desert suits, the material in as much quantity as they want, but that's a passive item and I think Akaar wants phase pistols." He sighed. "But we'll work out something. We have to come to an agreement somewhere!" He finished feelingly.

"And about Dina?"

Archer stopped. Everything he knew to do involved the help of friends she trusted; medical and psychological assistance and her own natural strength of will and integrity of self. And time.

Beyond that? He shook his head, unwilling to admit aloud the truth he couldn't deny. He had absolutely no idea what he could do to fix this. He looked at Trip, seeing in the man's eyes an equally galling helplessness.

They would have to hope that her friends could help.

* * *

Dina Samuels was on her way back to her quarters at 2000 hours, lost in thought, swamped by the emotions and overwhelming sense of support that had come from her many friends. She barely knew what to say, what to _think_ in light of this overwhelming day. She just wanted to walk, to get her mind off everything, when she heard a voice behind her calling her name. She looked back, seeing Travis Mayweather and Sam Harris approaching. She stopped to let them catch up.

"Dina," Travis began when the men reached her, Sam stepping past her so they could each face her as she stood with her back against the bulkhead. "I just...well, I wanted to say..."

She reached out, touching his arm. "Thank you."

"If there's anything we can do for you, just ask." Sam offered. The men were standing close enough that their words need not carry far, Travis on her left and Sam on her right.

Suddenly, Dina felt a flash of discomfort. Her back was against the wall and both men were before her, on either side, blocking her. Suddenly, she realized she was _afraid_! Wrong though it was to be suddenly afraid in the presence of her friends, she could only feel a senseless, mounting fear.

"Yeah, we just wanted you to know we're here for you. Everybody is."

She heard his words, but couldn't take them into her consciousness, because inside her fear was growing, tearing at her, choking her breath. These were her _friends_ ; she'd known them for months and for no reason at all she was _afraid_! No, not just afraid--she was terrified! She looked from one to the other and all she could think of was _escape_!

"Jen told me she was setting something up for this evening, some kind of..." Travis' voice trailed off as he saw the look in her eyes, her breath starting to come faster, broken erratically. "Dina, is something wrong?"

She looked from one to the other, her terror mounting, shattering her breath as she pressed against the steel bulkhead. "Please!" She whispered; her voice quivering as she started to tremble.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, growing concerned. He reached out and took her right arm, trying to steady her as the trembling grew worse. She stared at his hand and her panic flared, blasting her reason.

"Please!" She begged; her trembling voice reduced to a whisper as terror overwhelmed her. "Please! Don't hurt me! Don't _hurt_ me!"

"No one's going to hurt you." Travis promised, worried now by her fear.

She wanted to pull away from Sam's solicitous grip, actually just a light touch that her mind made into the beginning of another assault; but she was frozen, unable to move. "Please!" She pleaded in a tremulous whisper, tears stinging her eyes. "Don't hurt me!" She begged desperately. "Please don't _hurt_ me!"

"Dina?"

* * *

" _Get away from her_!" A woman's sharp command cracked like a whip and they turned, seeing Jennifer Farber stalking up to them. The ebon woman wedged herself between Travis and Dina, actually shoving her boyfriend back. "What are you two, _idiots_?" She gathered Dina into her arms, turning her away from the men, holding the trembling woman as she faced the men over Dina's shoulder, her voice cutting like a knife. "What do you think you're _doing_?"

"We were _trying_ to offer _support_." Travis told the black woman equally sharply as she held Dina.

" _Men_!" She exclaimed in high frustration as Dina fought to suppress her trembling, to get her breath back under control, safe from her friends in her friend's arms. "You had her _boxed in_. She had nowhere to run. Don't either of you recognize a _panic attack_ when you see one? What did you _think_ was going to happen?"

Dina shook her head, pushing away from Jennifer. "No. Please, it's all right." She turned to them, brushing stinging tears from her eyes, shamed beyond all expression.

"We're sorry." Travis told her.

"Yeah, we're really sorry. We didn't mean to scare you."

Dina shook her head, vastly ashamed. This was getting out of hand. These men were her friends. "No. _I'm_ sorry. I don't know what came over me. I couldn't _help_ it! I couldn't _stop_ it. It just..."

Jennifer came around to face her. "It's called panic; and its very natural." She wanted to add 'if these two dunderheads could just realize...' but did not. She fought down her own anger even as Dina fought her remaining fear. Giving vent to that anger would only make everyone feel even more embarrassed.

* * *

Dina was vastly ashamed. And she still felt afraid, she realized resentfully. Afraid of her _friends_. They had come in all the best intents and she had completely lost control. "I'm sorry."

"Look, let's just forget it or we'll be here apologizing all night." Travis advised. "No one expected this--but we'll do our best to help you deal with it."

"Just give her some space for a while." Jennifer directed.

Travis fought his natural reaction to reach out to Dina. "Sure."

But Dina, looking at both of them, could not bear to let this go on. They were her friends, but much as she needed 'space', she didn't want to give in to the need for it. Stepping forward before she could let herself think about it, she threw her arms about both men, squeezing as tightly as she could. "I love you both."

But then the fear was back and she stepped back. Neither man had moved to embrace her, cautious about setting off another panic attack. She appreciated their restraint almost as much as she resented the 'need' for it. She didn't want to admit this either, it galled her to say it; "But maybe space..."

Dina could not finish the frustration admission. She was immensely grateful that no one forced her to.

* * *

When Elizabeth Cutler and Hoshi Sato entered the Mess Hall in the seventh hour of Beta Shift, they found the room already occupied by twenty-six women. Andrea Carstairs from Security was positioned just within the entrance to politely request any male member of the crew to please wait a few minutes before entering. Hoshi looked carefully about the room, noting the level of tension was very high indeed. "What's going on?"

Jennifer Farber from Geology turned to face them. "Good, you two were the last. We're gathering all the women together so we can decide what our position is going to be. We have to be united on this."

"United on what?" Liz asked, feeling a bit apprehensive.

Hoshi glanced about the room. "Where's T'Pol."

"She wasn't invited." Carla Martinez said.

"But if you say all the women..."

"There's some contention about whether she qualifies!" Vicky Pasmore insisted.

Hoshi was surprised by the other's vehemence, but decided not to push the issue. Instead, she turned her attention back to Jennifer, as the brown woman seemed to be the lead figure in whatever was going on. "Like Liz said, 'united on what'?"

"We want the Captain to know that we're not going to tolerate what happened to Dina!" A ragged chorus of agreement rose. "We signed on to this ship knowing that there would be risks, and agreeing to them. We all went through the Academy; none of us came aboard blindfolded. But we have the right to expect that there would be some sane limits to that risk."

Another chorus of support arose.

"What sane limit? What is a 'sane limit'?"

"That we can depend on our crewmates, on our Captain, on Starfleet backing us up."

"Who says they're not?"

"Haven't you heard?" Sally Ransen exclaimed. "They care more about this _treaty_ than in getting justice for Dina!"

"I've heard no such thing." Hoshi said authoritatively. As the Comm Officer, she knew every message that came in or went out of the ship, and all the inner workings of Starfleet that Archer ever shared with his Senior Officers. She tried to repress her anger at this outrageous conclusion.

She sought out Dina, finding the subject of this conclave standing at the far edge of the throng, not looking at anyone. She looked like she felt guilty about being the cause of it and wanted to escape, to not be the focal point for something terrible she could neither control nor stop. But at the same time, these other women were there to support her and she could not escape that either.

"Isn't it obvious?" Kathy Martin demanded. "They'd throw any or all of us to the wolves for their precious topaline."

x

"All right, that's enough!" Hoshi demanded, seeing the situation about to explode out of all proportion. She turned to Jennifer, the clear instigator of the evening. "What do you want?"

Mary Tigat, also from Security, cut her off. "We want you to bring our demands to the Captain." 

" _I will do no such thing_!" Hoshi declared firmly. She looked over the group. It had been a long, stressful day, and she was not in the mood to deal with nonsense from her fellow non-Coms. "Why ask me? What made you think I would consider it, if you are going to express it like that?"

"Look around you." Jennifer said forcefully. "Do you see any Lieutenants here? Any Lieutenant Commanders? Any Commanders? We're all 'able bodied Crewwomen' or Ensigns. But you work on the Bridge. You have the Captain's ear twenty-four/seven. That makes you the highest ranking woman on this ship, Ensign!"

Hoshi looked over the sea of angry faces. No, not angry. Frightened; with a deep seated fear that could not be expressed logically and could not be escaped. 

And in that sea, there was one face that was neither angry nor frightened. Across the mob she saw Mother Patricia McCabe looking at her, her own expression calm, contemplative, seemingly trying to communicate a message to her from across the room. And Hoshi had to admit she knew the message quite well indeed.

She knew her friends were lashing out because they believed themselves powerless against the overwhelming concerns of Starfleet's needs and requirements. They only wanted some assurance that when their backs were to the wall, they could depend upon their shipmates.

In the background, she saw Mother McCabe cross the rear of the small crowd, putting an arm about Dina Samuels' shoulder and gently guiding her forward. The woman did not want to come, but she did not fight the Priest's gentle coaxing. As the other women noticed the silent pair passing through their midst, they opened ranks until Samuels and McCabe stood before Hoshi. Patricia McCabe did not move her comforting hand.

"Dina," Hoshi said softly, "what do you want?"

"What do I want?" She repeated, barely audible. She looked at McCabe literally at her shoulder. "What do I want." It was not a question. McCabe silent support gave her the strength to turn back to Hoshi, and this time her voice was firmer, more like her own.

"I want to have this day not to have happened, and I want _revenge_! I want to crawl onto my bunk and hide from the galaxy and I want to go to Captain Archer and _demand_ my due. I want to have this meeting not be happening and I want to scream for joy that someone cares enough to have it! I want to go to Tony and have him hold me and tell me he loves me and tell me everything's going to be all right even though we both know it's a fragging _lie_! I want to have his arms around me and I want to _tear out the heart_ of any man who so much as _touches_ me again!" She looked at McCabe. "If you can make sense out of all that, then that's what I want."

x

No one said anything, because everyone in the room knew the conflict all too well. They also knew that sorting it out would be the painful work of months.

"All right. I'll speak to the Captain." Hoshi's look took in them all. "I'll communicate your concerns."

"And our demands." Tigat insisted.

"No!" She declared adamantly. "If we can thrash out a message, I'll give it to him. But I am not going to lay a list of demands at his feet, because he is bound by regulations as much as we are, and he will not to be able to _meet_ any outrageous demands." She paused, deciding that this time she had gotten through to her Sisters-in-Arms.

"Now, let's see if we can agree about what your message is."


	8. Black

It was ten minutes to Zero, the changeover between Beta and Gamma Shifts. Crewman Tony Cavaluzza waited in the corridor outside D/52, where he had been since awakening an hour ago and hearing the devastating news.

He'd gone in search of Dina Samuels, only to find she was 'unavailable'. Now as he waited, knowing she must inevitably return from her private meeting, he thought intently.

He'd first met her months ago, prior to the ship's leaving Space Dock. Their duties had at first thrust them together, hers in Life Sciences and his in Environmental Control. It did not take more than a few weeks of working fairly closely in adjacent departments before he realized he was looking forward more and more intensely to seeing her each day. When he'd realized he'd started making excuses for 'visiting' her that had nothing at all to do with either of their duties, he decided it was time to stop 'kidding' himself.

He found he had not been fooling _her_ for an instant.

* * *

Their relationship had not been overt, more the mutual liking of each other's company. Occasionally she accepted his invitation to sit with him on the Tuesday 'evening' movie nights. Sometimes, then more often, they would meet for his breakfast and her dinner--though actually for her it was a 'late night snack' as she had been off duty for nearly eight hours.

He'd stopped waking up at 2300 and had started doing so at 2200.

It was when he'd started getting up at 2100 that he decided--again--that it was time to stop fooling himself--again--about his feelings for her.

He found he had not been fooling _her_ for an instant.

* * *

When he'd left his quarters he'd heard the devastating news and had set out immediately to find her. He'd been frustrated to find her quarters vacant, and had no idea where she was until he'd run into Lt. Seamus O'Cathain from Astrometrics, who'd told him about the 'meeting' in the Mess Hall.

He realized it was best to wait, not to disrupt an event where there would be absolutely no privacy. He decided the best thing to do was to wait. Eventually she would return here. It was just that there were ten minutes left.

No, he corrected, looking at his chronometer. There were eight.

When he saw her coming down the corridor, accompanied by the ship's new Chaplain, all these thoughts vanished from his mind. As she saw him waiting outside her rooms, there was a look of profound relief on her face. She sped her pace away from the other woman, stepping up to him as they embraced. "I'm so sorry." He whispered into her ear. "I wish I had known; that I could have..."

She shook her head, not wanting him to continue. She did not answer, just held him tightly.

* * *

Dina tried with all her will to cast aside everything that had torn at her this day, everything that had shattered her world. Right now, she just wanted to be held.

A moment later she felt her stomach clench. She pushed back, but tried to fight it, embracing him again. As she clung to him her stomach cramped even harder and she pushed back, leaning away from him as her stomach rebelled, and she pushed away in earnest, fighting out of his arms and turning away to her door, hand clamping over her mouth as she desperately pushed the control button.

The door barely slid open fast enough; she shoved through as soon as it was partially aside, running for her inner room, hand clamped tightly over her mouth as she ran a race she feared she was going to lose.

The sound of retching filtered out into the corridor before the outer door slid shut.

Tony Cavaluzza turned to the Priest, his hands held helplessly before him.

* * *

Security Officers Brennan and McLain stood a quiet post outside D/149. Normally Gamma Shift, now over two hours old, was the quietest. The twenty six crewmen and women who worked the 'graveyard' seemed to take a cue from the subdued lighting of the ship which simulated 'night', and were a quiet lot.

Nonetheless, though they did not believe anything would happen, they were as on alert as were their fellows of Alpha, particularly when guarding a prisoner, most especially a prisoner such as they now had confined.

Thus, they were aware of the approach of a crewman by his footsteps long before he came into sight. When he rounded the near junction, Brennan gave a tiny nod to McLain, acknowledging the debt the other had asked.

"Hello, Tom." He said casually as the crewman approached. "Taking a break?"

It was oh-two-thirty-six, and Gamma routinely started taking time out around oh-four-hundred.

"Yeah. Figured I'd take a walk, you know?" The man answered with forced casualness.

"Walking's good." McLain agreed even more casually. He didn't exactly imply that Cavaluzza should keep walking. It was just there.

"I like getting out from time to time." Brennan said. "Must get pretty cramped down in Environmental Control."

"Can be." He agreed, looking past them at the sealed door.

"Cramped enough that I'd think you wouldn't want much more on your belt than you need." McLain said pointedly, noting that a technician did not normally carry a phase pistol.

"I think you'll feel a lot lighter without that extra weight." Brennan agreed. "Why don't you let us return that thing for you?"

Tony most assuredly did not want him to. That was no part of his plans. But given the time to reconsider, with two to one odds, against friends he did not want to fight and then dealing with the inevitable consequences, he decided his covert visit to the armory had not been a good idea.

Reluctantly, he pulled the holster off, handing everything to the man. Brennan pulled the gun from its fitted receptacle and lowered the setting from 'kill' to 'stun'. "Have a good walk."

Frustrated and angry, Tony knew he was being given the chance to walk away clean. He did not want to take it, but did. But as he walked away, Brennan called to him. He turned, seeing something in the man's eyes.

"If it means anything, I'm as tempted."

"Ditto." McLain agreed.

Cavaluzza just nodded and continued back to his post.

* * *

At 0700 a very reluctant Ensign Hoshi Sato stood before the door to the Captain's quarters. She had decided the best time to approach him was before the stresses of the day--especially this day--became acute. Taking a deep breath, she tried to mentally prepare herself, put on a false smile and reached for the annunciation button.

Before she could touch it the door slid open and Archer was halfway out before he saw her. She looked up, as startled as he was, but then she saw the look of barely contained rage smoldering in his eyes. She took a step back, to get out of range of that anger. "Captain?"

"Hoshi?" He'd recovered quickly from his surprise, and tried his best to force an attitude of patience. It was a thin veneer at best. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Sir, I..." She hesitated, but then decided the best thing to do was just to push ahead--and hope. "Sir, I wonder if I might have a minute?" He breathed deeply, clearly trying to get his feelings back under control. She knew it was only to a fellow bridge officer, one who knew him well and had seen him in all sorts of situations and moods; that he would allow himself to openly show the effort he was using to control his thoughts and feelings. She was honored that he would trust her, would regard her, that much. But now was the time to push ahead.

Hoshi decided she would not be out of line by asking what was; under any circumstances, a cosmically stupid question. "Is anything wrong, sir?"

The question did serve its purpose, to focus him. At least, whatever he was angry about, he would not take it out on her--not that he ever would. "Everything's wrong, Hoshi, but none of it is..." He bit what he was going to say back between lips pressed together so tightly they almost turned white. Finally, some moments later, he was able to ease that pressure.

"Yes, come on in." He led her back into his quarters, and when the door closed he turned to face her. His normal placid expression was painted on his face like a mask; a mask she recognized. She had seen it many times before. She knew when to believe it, and knew this was not one of those times. "What did you have in mind?"

"Captain, you know I would do anything rather than lay one more problem on you, but under the circumstances--."

"Yes, yes." He said with waning patience. "Hoshi, I really would just like to hear it."

"Yes, sir. Last night, sir, all the women crewmembers--with the exception of T'Pol--met to express their deep concern about what happened to Dina. They want you to know about their concerns, about their apprehensions, about their..." She decided she just had to 'bite the bullet' and say it. "Well, sir, they passed two resolutions."

"Resolutions?" He asked, not sure if he'd heard her correctly. This was a Starship, not a Parliamentary forum.

"Yes, sir. Unanimously." He sat down in the chair behind his desk; certain he was not going to like this at all.

"Go ahead."

"Well sir, the first is that under no circumstances shall any of their responses to what happened to Dina in any way conflict with or violate Starfleet regulations, discipline or the Code of Military Conduct."

"Well, that's good to know. And the other shoe?"

"Sir, they demand...well, that is to say..."

"Yes, go on. They demand..." 

She swallowed, trying to break her hesitation. "Sir, they demand that we, that Starfleet, respond appropriately to the Capellans." He didn't change his expression in the slightest. "Sir, they're scared." She explained desperately. "I know how they feel. _I'm_ scared. We all signed on knowing there were risks, but this...this is _different_! They're convinced that Starfleet, in the interests of getting its topaline, will look the other way. I told them they were wrong, but this has undermined their confidence-- _our_ confidence." She amended, pointedly including herself. "They feel if Starfleet does not take a stand, they are not going to be backing us up. If Starfleet looks the other way with topaline, what about the next treaty? What about the next diplomatic -?" She stopped as Archer raised a hand, halting her rush. Hoshi took a breath; then continued more levelly. "They want to know that Starfleet; that their crewmates, will..."

"Will back them up when it comes to the individual versus what Starfleet wants--or needs."

"Yes, sir. I told them they were wrong. I told them! But their confidence..." She finished helplessly.

x

For a long moment Archer sat silently, seemingly not seeing her. Finally, when he looked at her directly, his manner was carefully controlled. "En--Hoshi, about twenty minutes ago I received a message from Starfleet." He activated the monitor as she stepped around his desk so she could see the screen. It had emblazoned upon it the Starfleet emblem. When the recording started, she recognized Admiral John Black.

"Enterprise from Starfleet Command: We have received and reviewed your report regarding the incident involving your crewwoman and a member of the Capellan delegation presently aboard your ship.

"Command expresses its deep concern and regret about this incident, and its hopes for the recovery of your officer.

"However, Captain, as you know, the deposits of topaline contained on planet Capella IV are essential to the life support systems of all our ships, starbases and colonies. There is no other world known to possess such vast quantities of this indispensable material.

"Your orders are to continue using all necessary diplomatic means to secure a mining treaty with the Capellans. As a gesture of diplomatic good will, your prisoner, the Maav Saal, is to be released from custody and remanded to the Teer Akaar. Starfleet out."

The screen blanked off.

x

Archer turned to look up at Hoshi, who was standing beside him, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"'Command expresses its deep concern and regret about this incident'?" She repeated, stunned. "'Hopes for the recovery of your _officer'_?"

"I know." He said, answering her tone.

She shook her head helplessly, unable to believe what she had just seen. "I assured them. I _swore_ to them!"

"If it had been Admiral Forrest, instead of Black..."

"He didn't even bother to use her frigging _name_!" She stepped away, just reaching a chair before her legs gave out. "If you let him out, if they see him walking the corridors as if nothing has happened..." Hoshi's voice trailed off as she contemplated the horror of this development. She looked up at him, her eyes haunted. "They are not going to tol--to accept this."

"No, say it. They are not going to _tolerate_ this, and I don't blame them one bit." He clenched his fist. "They have the right to expect that they will be backed up by their crewmates. They'll probably think Starfleet would throw them to the wolves when it suited their own needs."

"Almost their exact words." She admitted. The silence drew on. "What are you going to do?"

For a long moment he did not answer. Then he looked up. "Would you excuse me, Ensign? I have a lot of work to do."

"Yes, sir."

Hoshi stood up and left, not knowing what was on his mind. All she was certain of was that the Captain would not turn his back on his crew.


	9. Torment

"You want to _what_?" Jonathan Archer did not believe he had heard the Teer correctly. The statement the other had made was so outrageous he was ready to call the negotiations off right then and there.

Akaar, believing his host had not understood his words, rephrased himself. "I wish to complete the viewing of your vessel in the presence of both Maavs, so that we may conclude our negotiations."

"And you want me to order Saal removed from detention." He had already received such an order from Admiral Black, but had hesitated at implementing it. He could not do so indefinitely, but if he could limit the exposure of the man to his crew, he could keep a potentially explosive situation from going completely out of all control.

Now even that 'loophole' was taken from him in the face of his 'guest's' outright demand. He wished he could send the three of them back to Capella IV without the Shuttlepod.

"It is only in deference to your unusual customs and concerns about your woman that I have permitted my Second Maav to remain confined yesterday. Today, however, I have need of his insights and advice. Further, under Capellan law, Saal has committed no offense. It is only by courtesy that I have permitted him to be confined."

Archer stared into the eyes of the taller man, matching his hard expression. While it was clear that the Teer was used to having his commands obeyed and Archer knew little of their customs of hospitality or anything else, this was his ship and he was as much in command as the Teer was in his camp. 

This 'First Contact' mission was, in Archer's opinion, a disaster. He would like to have thrown Akaar and his people off the ship as soon as the incident had occurred, but he had not. Trying to negotiate for topaline--and fulfilling the Admiral's orders--was looking more like a no-win situation by the hour.

He had two choices: negotiate or throw them back to the planet and turn in a report of failure. He knew he had crossed the emotional line when the latter started to actually look more appealing than the former.

Additionally, the conversation he'd had this morning with Hoshi Sato rang in his ears. 'They'll probably think Starfleet would throw them to the wolves when it suited their own needs.' 'Almost their exact words.'

But he had to make a decision. He wished he had T'Pol's ability to turn off his emotions, for the decision he had to reach nearly caused his gorge to rise. "Saal may join us on this tour, but he will be under guard and will not be permitted to have any freedom of movement whatsoever."

Akaar saw in his host's eyes that he had gotten all the concession he is going to. "Agreed."

x

Malcolm Reed and a team of Security Guards accompanied Archer and the Capellans on the 'tour'. Though they had the Capellans' solemn word that they would cause no disruption to the routine of the Starship, Reed believed this as much as he would a report of T'Pol's doing stand-up comedy in the Mess Hall.

The three men had been deprived of the last of their weapons, the otherwise ever-present kligats, but that in no sense made them safe as far as he was concerned. Yesterdays' assault of a capable officer had been without a weapon, and he was determined not to allow any other disruption.

Normally Archer would have toned down the man's very obvious distrustful manner, but this time he allowed his Security Chief free reign, wanting to drive home as clearly as he could his own displeasure and dissatisfaction.

Several times, even before leaving D deck, they'd encountered lone crewwomen who took one look at the three Capellans together and turned away, finding other routes to their destinations. Each had met their Captain's eyes; and the looks that had been exchanged skirted the limits of regulation behavior of junior officer to Captain.

None had gone beyond that limit, but each had made her thoughts quite plain indeed.

Archer concentrated, as he walked, on the careful balance of negotiation until, with the certainty of systemic destruction following a supernova, the inevitable happened.

As the group approached the office assigned to Mother Patricia McCabe, the Chaplain's door opened and she stepped out into the corridor, accompanied by Ensign Dina Samuels.

The two groups stopped, barely two meters separating them as Dina Samuels froze, her eyes locked on Saal.

She stopped breathing, staring at the huge Capellan towering over her, and in her eyes was a stricken expression as horrible as it was inexpressible. The woman began to tremble violently as McCabe turned, trying to move her back into the room. Dina stood riveted to the spot, unable to move save for a trembling that increased second by second as she stared, not breathing, a small whimper the only sound she could make.

Patricia McCabe reopened her door and actually pushed Dina inside, closing the door after them.

x

The lights had gone off when they'd left the room, and came on again automatically as they came back in. Patricia had actually thought that in this morning's conversation some progress had been accomplished, in that Dina had been able to speak, albeit brokenly and unwillingly, of her feelings about what had happened. She had received and seemed to accept assurances that she was safe, and that the Priest would help her through the trying times ahead.

Now Dina stood frozen just inside the door, trembling violently and still not breathing. "Dina?" Patricia took her trembling hands. "Dina, breathe! Come on, you have to _breathe_!" She held on as the Biologist stared at her and to Patricia it was as if the woman were looking into Hell itself.

Dina's first breath came in a convulsive gasp, but as she clutched the Priest's hands in her own trembling ones her breath began to come faster, and faster still, sharp and rapid as she panted, going out of control as the trembling shook her violently. She was breathing so fast; and faster still; that Patricia started to fear for her.

"Dina! Dina, hang on! You can do it!" Tears flowing down her face, Dina started to scream. Patricia clung to her hands, trying to provide a steadying rock to cling to as Dina screamed and screamed, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch as she desperately threw her arms about the woman, clinging to her tightly as she continued to shriek.

x

Jonathan Archer turned the 'tour' around, heading back to the guest quarters on the other side of D deck, the last of his patience and tolerance gone. Even as they moved away he could hear the receding screams rising in pitch to a shrill accusation that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

He did not trust himself to say a word until they'd cut across the diameter of the saucer, returning to D/147. Just before entering, he reached for an intercom panel on the corridor wall, trying to keep his voice level. "Commander T'Pol, report to guest quarters 147."

"Acknowledged." Came the immediate reply.

"Sir, with your permission." Malcolm began. The two men had served together long enough that Archer had no need to ask.

"Granted."

The Security Chief moved off, back the way they had come. The three Security Guards, undismissed, remained with their Captain and his 'guests'.

Archer pressed the button which opened the door. "Gentlemen." His tone was utterly controlled. He followed them in, the three guards following him. Archer considered the scene appropriate; Akaar had been surrounded by his guards when in his tent. He should not miss the significance.

When the door closed, Archer faced the Teer. "I presume by now you understand fully our use of topaline. You've also seen much of our ship, but before we _conclude our negotiations_ I want to remind you of our limits." He made certain Akaar understood his stressed words. "We will not trade weapons or anything that might be used as a weapon, nor any devices that are not consistent with the present level of technology of your planet." They heard the annunciation sound from the door. "Come!" 

The door slid open and Sub-Commander T'Pol entered. Archer was glad of her calming presence. She would provide the emotional restraint he was completely out of.

"So, it is time to reach an agreement. What do you want in exchange for the rights to mine topaline on your planet?"


	10. Restitution

An hour later, an emotionally strained Jonathan Archer left the guest quarters, looking forward to the moment when he would bid his 'guests' a long awaited goodbye. It had been a grueling two days, but he was satisfied with the result.

His thoughts, however, were derailed when he found the Rev. Mother Patricia McCabe standing outside the door. "Captain Archer?"

"Yes?" He asked, bracing himself for another stressful encounter.

"Would you please join me in my office?"

Surprised by the cryptic request, he allowed the woman to lead the way.

When, a few minutes later, he approached that room at the opposite end of the saucer, he was surprised to find Dr. Phlox just leaving. "What's going on here?"

The Denobulan turned to him with an impressively wide smile. "Merely an anatomy lesson, Captain."

* * *

A half hour more passed before Ensign Travis Mayweather received a summons while at his station on the bridge, with orders to prepare Shuttlepod One for launch.

As he was leaving the bridge, Hoshi Sato received a similar summons to go to Launch Bay One. This call, however, did not originate from the Captain, and when she heard it she was completely astonished. Nevertheless, she turned over her duties to a Crewman from Tactical in the rear of the bridge, who would hold the station until her relief arrived, and obeyed this unexpected and unusual call.

* * *

Captain Archer escorted his Capellan 'guests' to the Launch Bay, where Travis Mayweather would be waiting to pilot the Shuttlepod. But as the doors opened to the bay and the group entered the large chamber, the three Capellans were surprised to find a throng of people waiting for them. The assemblage was composed entirely of women; every crewwoman who either was or could get off duty was present. They presented a wall of Starfleet blue crowding before the Shuttlepods.

To the left, ranged along the wall, stood Lt. Malcolm Reed, Ensign Travis Mayweather, Dr. Phlox and Crewman Tony Cavaluzza. The four men were not part of the group but lent their support to it. In the front rank of the cluster stood Mother Patricia McCabe, the only one not in Starfleet blue but in her Clerical garb. Archer could quickly pick out Hoshi Sato, Elizabeth Cutler, Mary Hampshire, Ann Anderson, Christina Carson, Tia Anlor, Jennifer Farber, Mary Sherman, Mary Tigat, Vicky Pasmore, Carla Martinez, Andrea Carstairs and many others, a total of twenty one out of the twenty eight women serving aboard the ship.

"Captain Archer," Reverend McCabe said formally, "I take it that your business is concluded?"

"Yes." He said just as formally. He could not say he was happy with what was happening, but he agreed with the necessity of it. He'd agreed when the idea was first proposed to him in McCabe's office, and had not been happy then or now. "A treaty is agreed to and signed, giving Starfleet mining rights on Capella in exchange for medical assistance and supplies, as well as the commencement of an educational program for the planet's young."

"Then only one piece of business remains." The front ranks of the assembly parted to form a semicircle, leaving Ensign Dina Samuels alone in its center, surrounded by her Sisters-in-Arms.

* * *

Dina's heart was pounding in her chest so loudly she could barely hear anything else, so hard it hurt as it slammed blood through her. She was so afraid she had to keep her fists clenched tightly at her sides to hide her shaking. She tried to concentrate on keeping her breath steady; taking slow, controlled breaths as her mounting terror made her want to cry, or to flee to a safety that for her would never exist again!

Mother McCabe, whose hand she could not even grasp to relieve her terror, had suggested this, as had Malcolm Reed, and at the time she had most enthusiastically agreed. She knew if she did not confront the monster who had hurt her now, she would _never_ have a chance to do so ever again.

She would be left with only terror and pain, and she knew she would never be able to touch Tony Cavaluzza again, or bear his touch, nor that of any other man for as long as she lived. She might, with counseling, come to live with the pain, but she would never again be _herself_.

She'd decided she'd rather be dead!

* * *

"Saal!" She called firmly, trying to clamp down with all her self control so her voice would not carry her terror across the chamber. "You violated me! You _raped_ me! Now I challenge you!"

Saal looked down at her incredulously; then turned to his Teer. "This is ridiculous!"

Akaar was as surprised as his Maavs were, but by Capellan tradition and law his next move was clear. "You are challenged, Saal. What is your answer?"

Saal laughed. "A _woman_?" He put all the contempt he could muster into that word, looking across the bay at the much smaller human. "I'm challenged by a _woman_?"

"She is a warrior of her race. What is your answer?"

"Come on, bastard; you _afraid_ of a little _woman_?"

The huge Maav looked again at Dina seventeen inches below him and drew a long blade from his belt. "I'll carve you for my dinner."

Archer gripped his wrist tightly. "No weapons."

Akaar addressed him directly. "What are your terms?"

Archer could not believe he was being asked this, but as 'teer' of the Enterprise it seemed to be his prerogative. He was loathe to answer, but could not stop this; not without doing more damage to his friend than by letting it continue. 

Additionally, he had to admit it would help Starfleet's status with the Capellans if they did something the men could comprehend and respect. But right now he did not give a damn about any of that! He just wanted to keep Dina Samuels alive. "No weapons. And this is not to the death. Defeat or surrender."

"Agreed. This is single combat. Her supporters may remain, they may not help her."

"She won't _want_ any help." Archer told him tightly.

As Kapaar reached out to accept Saal's sword and kligat, Archer crossed the chamber. 'If Starfleet hears about this, we'll all be cleaning privies on freighters for the rest of our careers.' He stepped up to Dina, and was joined by Malcolm and Tony. Archer was sure this was a bad idea, more so when he could see the naked terror in Dina's eyes. He knew he was not the only one who could.

"Be careful, honey." Tony urged her. Dina's answer was silent, only her lips moved, but no one needed to hear the sentiment.

"Remember," Malcolm said, "you have the advantage in height, speed and agility. Use it."

"You're out of your _mind_!" Dina retorted. "He's over a fragging foot and a half _bigger_ than me and strong enough to put me through a bulkhead."

"Exactly. You have the advantage. Remember what I've taught you all these months and use it. And remember everything Phlox told you."

"Dina." Archer said firmly. "I can still stop this. Are you sure you want to do this?"

She shook her head and answered with as much fire as he'd ever heard from her. "I'm sure I _don't_!" 

She moved to step around him, and when he turned he saw that Saal was already positioned several feet before her, the other Capellans moving aside to her left. The Enterprise crew moved aside toward the right bulkhead to give the combatants as much room as possible, in a Launch Bay dominated by two Shuttlepods.

* * *

Dina looked up and across the still-too-limited space at the man who had abused her and she still felt the pain of that earlier fight. Though the more intimate wounds had been 'repaired', they still hurt; and now she faced this huge monster again. Heart pounding in her chest so hard it hurt; breath carefully controlled in an effort to avoid hyperventilation; mouth so dry she felt she could sand-smooth the Shuttlepods with her tongue; she tried to hide or push aside her absolutely overwhelming terror. Just the sight of him made her more intimate wounds hurt again in sympathetic response, or perhaps the fear of new assaults; she couldn't be sure. 

All she was sure of was that if she did not do this, then these feelings would be with her for the rest of her life.

She waited, sizing up the tremendous man, looking up at his more than seven foot height. She'd held her own against him in a smaller space yesterday and hadn't been as afraid as she was now. She'd learned something yesterday about how he fought, but he'd learned about her as well. 

Now all she knew, even in the spacious Shuttle Bay with room to maneuver and surrounded by two dozen supporters, was that he was a lot _bigger_ than he was yesterday!

* * *

This time there would be no focus on sex. This time she'd publicly challenged and impugned him. Despite Archer's terms, she could see in his eyes that he intended to kill her.

He stepped in, putting his whole body into a punch that would have torn her head from her shoulders if she hadn't dodged to her left, jumping spryly beside and past him to kick back into his knees, knocking them out from under him and sending him sprawling to the deck. Several women laughed as he got to his feet, Dina caring more about keeping out of his reach. Her opening effort to outmaneuver and humiliate him had likely worked all too well. Now he probably intended to injure her severely before he killed her.

* * *

Saal charged her almost before she was ready, his hands going for her throat. But she got her arms up high before he could reach her, knocking his arms aside, clasped her hands together and brought them down as hard as she could onto the bridge of his nose, backing aside out of reach as he staggered backward into the space between the two pods, clutching his nose, perhaps as surprised as angry. Dina rushed forward, leaping as high as she could and slamming both feet into Saal's chest, staggering him several feet back as she landed on her feet and leapt toward Shuttlepod Two on her right as he stepped between them, planting her foot on its slanted 'nose', her momentum carrying her up and she aimed a hard kick to his head, connecting with a very satisfying 'thud' as she passed, landing on her feet behind him between the pods as an excited cheer went up from her friends.

She did not hesitate, kicking his knees out from under him again, and as he fell aiming as hard a kick as she could at his back, at one of the spots Phlox had suggested earlier in McCabe's office. But Saal must have anticipated her move, for an instant before she connected with the vital nerve cluster he turned, one hand grasping her leg, the other her uniform between her breasts. He got to his feet as she tried to balance on one foot and turned back so fast she was pulled entirely off her feet with a startled shriek as she was swung around his body and slammed with staggering force into Shuttlepod Two!

The impact stunned her as he released her and her momentum carried her away into the open space to roll along the deck, ending up sprawled on her side on the deck. Her back felt like she'd been hit by an asteroid and she'd barely avoided a concussion by ducking her head forward. Now, lying on the deck, just trying to get her body to work again, she looked up to see Saal advancing confidently, certain of an easy victory. She pushed off the deck, just barely able to roll onto her back.

She heard her friends urging her to get up, but did not move as Saal stood above her. She lay motionless on her back, helplessly watching as he raised his left foot and several of her friends cried out as he was about to slam it down onto her head.

Her hands flashed up, grabbing his foot tightly and she twisted as hard as she could as she brought her own foot up hard into the nerve cluster of his right leg and he collapsed beside her with a pained cry. No longer pretending, keeping her grip on his left foot; she pivoted over him, one knee on his body as she pulled and twisted hard.

But the maneuver, certain to painfully immobilize a human, was ineffective as with surprising strength Saal's foot was yanked from her grip, allowing him to straighten his leg just as he reached back, his hand clutching her hair and he pulled her backward.

This time she couldn't avoid her head slamming onto the deck, the impact stunning her as she felt him get to his feet beside her. She lay still; her head feeling like it had broken open as she tried to keep from losing consciousness from the horrific impact, knowing that if she did she was certainly dead.

She tried to shake off the stupor, her head only hurting more. Awareness took a long time as he stood over her, savoring his victory, and had barely started to return to her before she felt his hand clutch her uniform, yanking her to her feet. He held her by her uniform front clutched in his massive left hand as his fist rammed into her stomach once, twice, three times as she clutched herself, trying to protect herself with her arms. Her battered stomach was so pained she could barely breathe and she struggled to avoid losing her last meal as he yanked her upright again. She couldn't raise her arms in time to prevent his fist from slamming into her face.

Dina was knocked back, staggering from the force of the punch further back between the Shuttlepods. He did not pursue her as she managed to halt her rearward flight, one hand covering her numbing face. When she brought her hand from her face it was covered in her blood.

She looked up, squeezing her eyes tightly as her right eye was smeared by a flow of blood, and when she wiped it away she saw him bearing down on her between the two Pods! Desperately, she ducked under his rush, slipping past him to get behind, again kicking his knees out from under him, moving back out from between the pods into the wide area before them as he fell; needing room to maneuver. Enraged, he got up and came charging out at her, just as she'd hoped. She dodged to her right, grasping his arm, her foot coming out to trip him and using his momentum to fling him across the bay, just as she'd done yesterday. He rolled to a stop near the bulkhead, turning to look up at her, his features distorted in rage.

"You should have _remembered_ that move!" She said, exultant as her friends cheered, their response only serving to further anger the Capellan. 'Keep it up, gals.' She thought. 'The madder he stays; the better.'

Saal leapt to his feet and charged her. She could not believe he'd tried the same bull rush again, but determined not to repeat herself, stepping forward and kicking high, her foot slamming into his chin hard enough to drive him back--except it did not work! His momentum barreled him into her and they both toppled over, Dina landing on her back with her legs straddling his hips.

For an instant a flash of memory brought her back to yesterday's horror, and she was slow to react as he pushed up and rammed his fist into her face, the back of her head hitting the steel deck again! Stunned, she tried to move but could not do so quickly enough to prevent him from grabbing the front of her uniform and yanking her up completely off her feet, slamming her back into the bow of Shuttlepod One.

She cried out as her back exploded in pain and she was bent violently over the bow. Held against the unyielding steel, she could not stop him as his hands slipped up to her throat! His body pressed against her legs, trapping her as his hands tightened about her neck! She grabbed his wrists and pulled with all her strength, but could not ease the strangling pressure.

Pinned over two feet above the deck, bent backward, she couldn't fight him, struggling as best she could to loosen his grip, but she could not. Her strangled breath was reduced to a horrible gagging, then nothing! Straining helplessly, unable to free the tight grip or drag air into her straining lungs, she could hear the cries of her distressed friends who were equally helpless to aid her, else Kapaar could join the fight and it would devolve into a melee.

Raising her right hand high, having only one last defense, she wasn't hesitant to use it, bending her fingers and bringing her fingernails down into his eyes.

With an agonized roar Saal released her, falling back, clutching his face as she fell to the deck, gasping desperately for breath to fill her agonized lungs and clear her swimming head. Seeing Saal bent slightly, clutching his eyes, she rushed forward and aimed as hard a kick as she could to his head, connecting hard, driving him several paces away.

Falling again to her knees, still not recovered, breathing as deeply, as quickly as she could, she heard a sudden shout and looked up just in time to see him charging her again! She got to her feet but ducked under his arms as he tried to encircle her and hit him as hard as she could in his solar plexus. She'd have preferred a different target, but had already learned the uselessness of _that_ maneuver yesterday. His breath whoofed out satisfyingly, but his fist came at her face so fast all she could do was duck backward, allowing herself to fall and roll away from him, trying to put enough distance between them as she rolled back up to her feet.

He charged her again and she kicked him as hard as she could in his stomach, putting everything she had into the kick. He hadn't been moving as fast as he had before and the hard blow doubled him over. 

Stepping past him as he was bent low, she put her arm about his neck, trapping his head behind her under her arm, holding him bent over. Bracing herself, she kicked backward up into his face, two, three, four times as hard as she could before he grabbed her other leg with one hand, her back with the other and straightened to his full seven foot height, the fast motion making her arm slip from his neck an instant before he let go.

From over six feet up he dropped her and she slammed down on the steel deck, her hands and feet hitting the metal barely in time to absorb some of the impact. But the move did not absorb enough as she cried out in agony. Nevertheless, she rolled away as quickly as she could, just avoiding a kick to her ribs.

She got to her feet as soon as she was out of range; trying to ignore the pain of a mounting number of bruises and tried to get far enough back to maneuver. 

Too late she realized she'd backed into the space between the pods, and as he charged she looked frantically for room to maneuver, but there was none. She tried to duck under his fist, but she was not yet recovered from his strangling her and the stunning crash, and was too slow as he hit her, forcing her backward as his fists cracked again and again into her face. He kept hitting her, driving her back step by step. She was barely conscious, unable to block any of the hard punches. She could no longer even feel her face. All she could hear were the cries of distress from her friends.

She felt his hands clutch the front of her uniform and she was lifted completely off her feet and slammed bodily to the side against Shuttlepod One. Agony exploded through her body as she was slammed so hard against the unyielding titanium hull she was sure she'd broken at least half a dozen bones. He pulled her off One and slammed her body forward against Two, the front of her body taking the titanic impact. Then she was driven sideways into One again.

She could not stop him as he brutally pounded her from one to the other, over and over! She didn't know how many times she was slammed against the hulls; just that finally, as she was about to cross over the edge of consciousness, it was over and she was hanging from his grip, limp and helpless, feeling as though every bone in her body were shattered! She was barely conscious, unable to focus her swollen eyes on anything.

She tried to move but her body, screaming in silent agony, would not obey. She hung limply from his grip on her uniform front, unable to mount any defense at all. He lifted her high over his head, his other hand grasping her crotch tightly, and her shriek cut through the chamber as she was thrown from between the pods, flying across the room to crash with cataclysmic impact into the far bulkhead, falling to the deck, the front of her body taking the full impact.

* * *

Dina lay face down on the deck, completely and thoroughly battered, unable to move and tortured by such pain that she didn't know if she would even live to take her next breath! She had hit the bulkhead with bone shattering force and landed hard. Her body screamed at her to stay down, to surrender to the pain, to wait for death.

Barely heard cries from her friends filled the launch bay as she lay motionless. She didn't knew how two of her friends had tried to rush to her aid, only to be held back by the others. She lay face down on the deck, barely hearing her friends urging her, begging her to get up, but consciousness nearly escaped her until she heard Archer's authoritative shout of "Enough!"

Something in that word broke through her daze, and allowed her to remember where she was, and _why_! She drew a deep breath, her lungs shrieking in pain.

" _No_!" Dina said as loudly as she was able, her body so suffused with pain that she could barely distinguish one from another, shaking her head despite the new pain it caused.

Grimacing against fresh agony, she pressed against the deck, her chest and arms protesting. She could barely move herself an inch, but the second time she forced herself to push harder, and she started to rise inch by inch until she managed to push herself up, barely able to get her elbows under her. She could scarcely move, her stunned body shaking uncontrollably, the pain shrieking at her to give up. When she could open her eyes and see the deck before her, she saw the growing puddle of red blood dripping upon it.

" _No_!" She cried even more firmly, as loudly as she was able, continuing to push herself up on trembling arms that did not want to obey her nor support her weight. She fought herself until she could get her arms to full extension. " _I_ \--." She drew her knees up under her, fighting back a shriek of pain as she balanced on hands and knees on the deck, watching her blood fall from several spots on her face to paint the metal. " _Don't_ \--." She shoved as hard as she could off the floor, rising as her back flared in protest, balancing herself on wobbling knees. " _Quit_!"

She saw Saal standing between and just before the Shuttlepods, in no hurry to advance, certain he had won. She panted carefully, every breath sending flares of pain through her lungs and from her ribs. She was sure one was cracked, but did not dare touch it. To her right were the Capellans, ranged to her left were her friends and shipmates, and before her was her fate.

She panted hard to fight the pain, fought to ignore the pain, to resist the trembling of her protesting body as she forced herself to get one foot under her. Reaching behind her, she clutched for something to support herself against the bulkhead. She held back a scream behind clamped lips, her legs wobbling as she got the other up, pushing herself upright; leaning against the bulkhead behind her. She grasped the first jutting thing she touched and forced herself to her feet, not allowing herself to breathe deeply because she would scream in agony if she did. She could feel the blood flowing down her face and didn't even want to spare a glance at her uniform. 

She cautiously shook her head, trying to clear it, and pushed carefully off the bulkhead, her body shrieking in protest as she concentrated on taking a step, then another, forced herself to stand upright; and staggered backward into the bulkhead, hitting it hard, just barely catching herself with a tight grip on some protruding control. It took all she could to clutch that unknown metal, to fight her trembling body as it threatened to give out from under her, trying to think through the horrible pain.

She tried to ignore the pain, to fight it. If something was broken in her she did not want to know. If she was bleeding internally as well as outside, she did not want to _know_! She concentrated on nothing except the man standing across the open space before her, waiting.

This man before her had _raped_ her, _stolen_ something from her she had to get back--her _life_! When she'd faced her friends, terrified of them; when she'd clung to Patricia McCabe, trembling and screaming; she knew she could not bear a life of that fear. Either that fear would conquer her and destroy her for the rest of her life, or she would conquer it!

* * *

She realized at that moment that she wasn't afraid anymore. The pain so filled her that there was no longer room for fear. Once she knew she could no longer live with that fear, she knew she had to conquer that terror, or she would die--for she would not let the fear _steal her life_!

She looked to her assembled friends, seeing their distress but seeking out one face, one pair of eyes, focusing upon them, trying to draw strength from them. Taking a deep, very careful breath, she pushed herself away from the bulkhead and took one, two, three staggering steps.

Saal advanced on her, his fists clenched. "I'll make this fast." He promised.

"I don't like quickies." She retorted, barely dodging his fist and grasping his arm, using it for the moment to hold herself upright on legs that gave out from under her. She raised her foot and slammed it into his shin, scraping down to stomp onto his instep. As quickly as she could she targeted the same nerve cluster in his leg she'd hit before, using all her strength even as he pulled his arm away as the impact deadened his leg and they both fell face down to the deck.

Dina grabbed his long train of hair with her left hand, yanking hard as he lay face down, using the force to pull his head up and she _dragged_ herself onto his back.

Laying on his back, she spread her legs as widely as she could, one foot to either side, keeping him down, unable to use his leg for the few moments it would remain numbed, and unable to turn over as she got her right arm up about his throat, letting go of his hair to grab her left forearm, trapping his throat between her arms and squeezing.

His throat trapped in the crook of her elbow, he tried to pull her arm loose as she squeezed harder; forcing all her body's strength, everything she had left, into her arms, cutting off his breath. With her feet planted far apart on either side of him, he could not turn or get any leverage as he pulled at her arm and she put everything she had into tightening the grip. Her body trembled on the edge of exhaustion, wanting to shut down from the brutal beating and the agony that suffused her, but she fought her body as much as his! She watched her dripping blood spot his back and in his hair. He struggled under her, trying to get up, to turn over, even as she stopped his breath.

Her body screamed in protest as she forced more and more strength into her arms from everywhere in her that she could while fighting his efforts to turn over. Pain flared through her as she concentrated on focusing her strength into her arms, drawing it from everywhere within her, focusing on her arms! He was barely struggling now under her, his wheezing breaths horrible to hear as he desperately fought to drag air into his straining lungs.

"You're about to be defeated by a _woman_!" She whispered tightly into his ear, barely loud enough to be heard. She knew she shouldn't waste her breath, but could not help herself. She pulled harder, pushing with her other arm, tightening the grip with all her force. She should have no more strength at all, but from some unknown wellspring within her she poured the last of her strength, everything she had left, into the grip, her arms hurting in earnest. "How's it feel to have someone on top of _you_ crushing the life out of _you_ , you fragging _bastard_?"

He pulled again, his strangled breath reduced to nothing at all as she tightened even more, seeking all her reserves of strength to throw into this, her body shrieking to stop the unremitting effort. She made it go on as long as she could, and then longer, longer, her arms burning in pain, the agony growing worse by the second. Her muscles screamed at her to stop. "A human takes four minutes to strangle!" She whispered tightly. "How long with you?" His tugging was getting weaker; she'd cut off his gasping breath long before.

"Come on, you bastard! _Give_!" His struggles were slowing. She could barely feel his pulling at her arm as she forced the very last iota of her waning strength into her grip. It was over. She had absolutely nothing left to draw from. She was completely drained, and still she did not let go. She would not let go until he gave! "Or not; I don't fragging _care_! Just know, when you die, that a _woman_ ; a woman you _raped_ ; sent you to Hell!"

"Enough." This time it was Akaar who spoke. She looked up to where he stood. "The victory is yours, woman. I would not lose my Maav."

" _No_!" She looked down, addressing Saal. " _You_ give!" She tightened harder, not knowing where this last iota of strength came from but using it gladly, using the very last of her strength, completely at her limit, completely drained. She could feel her grip start to weaken. "You like to beat and _rape_ women! You _give_ to a woman!"

"Desist!" Akaar commanded.

"Ensign Samuels!" She looked over her shoulder toward the sound of a more authoritative command. "Release him! That's an order."

She let go, rolling off his back and away toward the bulkhead, landing on her back as he drew in a great draught of air, breathing quickly, deeply as she lay beside him, grateful to be able to stop. Her whole body was trembling, her strength completely gone, used up in this colossal effort as she lay beside her defeated foe. Her deep gasping breaths mirrored his. 

Dina lay staring upward at the double high ceiling, panting deeply; blood flowing down each side of her face which she could not feel from the many hard punches. She felt the wetness flowing past the sides of her face, into her hair, but could not move to stop it. She was sure her face was a minefield of bloody bruises, but for now she just wanted to get her breath back into her trembling body. She couldn't move, knowing that if she tried to get up she would fall over and not be able to get up again. She could not feel her arms; they lay limply at her sides. She couldn't even move them, she'd totally exhausted them, and she was so grateful to be able to stop. She was aware of him beside her as he forced himself to get to his feet, staggering away toward his fellows.

An instant later she was inundated by a crowd of her friends kneeling and clustering about her, pulling her so she could sit up, hugging her as she panted heavily, throat sore and dry from her stentorian breaths, barely able to acknowledge them yet. She tried uselessly to keep her face away from her friends, but as they hugged her several came away with blood on their uniforms and no one cared. She raised a hand to her numb face, but it came away smeared with lines of blood and she realized she must be covered with it. Mary Tigat and Carla Martinez helped her up to her feet, supporting her between them. She hung limply, could not stand on her own, not even able to keep her legs under her. The throng opened ranks to allow her to be brought forward even as Phlox left the men who had remained with him at the bulkhead, crossing the room to his patient.

"SAAL! HOLD!"

The shout turned everyone toward the Capellans as Saal, humiliated beyond reason at his defeat by a weak and insignificant woman, hurled his discus-like bladed weapon across the gap toward his now hated adversary!

The kligat moved so fast it could not be seen, just a high whoosh as it traveled straight and true to its human target. The only one standing between it and Dina was Tia, and what happened was too fast for human eyes to resolve. Tia's hand flashed out and she pivoted in a blur of motion, the whoosh was repeated and the kligat buried itself deep into Saal's throat!

The Capellan's eyes were frozen in an astonished stare for about a seemingly endless second. Then he tottered, falling backward with a horrible thud.

No one moved. No one spoke. For a long moment the universe seemed to hold its breath. Then, Akaar slowly turned to Archer, and when he spoke his voice was softened and lifeless. "Saal's treachery shames us."


	11. Epilogue

Jonathan Archer entered Sick Bay in a bleak mood, realizing that in the past two days he had been here more often than on the Bridge, and there was no real joy in the return. As the doors closed behind him, the round door to the Imaging Chamber was just opening, the platform rolling out with Dina Samuels upon it. When he drew close and she could look up at him, he was pleased to see that there were no visible marks of her ordeal.

No visible marks.

The invisible ones, he knew, would be with her for a long time to come. "How are you?" He asked as he stood beside her, with Phlox on her opposite side. She hesitated for a long moment.

"I'm not sure." She shook her head, and there was no joy in her. "I don't think I'm going to know how I am for a long time." She pressed a hand to her side, wincing.

"You had five bruised ribs, two had hairline fractures. The good news is that you had no internal injuries. The bad news is that for a few days it will feel like you did."

"Oh, joy."

She rubbed her face, but then her hand clenched tightly. "Will I sound like a horrible person if I tell you I'm glad he's dead?" Neither man answered her, which was all right, because she didn't know the answer either. "What happened?" She asked Phlox, really needing to change the subject.

"With the kligat?" She nodded. "Simple reflex. Auran dendrites are at least 75 percent closer to one another than in the human body. I doubt she could possibly do that if she had to think about it. Her greater Auran strength resulted in the kligat actually being buried into his spinal column." 

Dina was impressed. Her response, however, was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "It pays to have alien friends."

"You can look up the relative composition and density of Human and Auran dendrites during your recuperation."

She shook her head, instantly regretting it, but hiding the twinge of pain as well as she could. "No way, Doctor; I have to go back to work. Life Sciences hasn't seen me for two days."

"In that case, you can do it here tonight, and I'll expect a report on the subject in the morning."

She grinned wryly. "Slave driver." She looked at Archer. "All this didn't foul up the treaty, did it?"

"No. In fact, Akaar was so distressed by Saal's trying to kill you after the fight was over--it was dishonorable conduct that reflected badly on him--that he was willing to make some additional concessions. The revised treaty's been transmitted, we left orbit half an hour ago, and I for one am happy to leave Capella behind."

"Amen!"

"So," Archer said, returning to his original subject. "How are you managing?"

"Well," she sighed, "I can honestly say I went through Hell! I got to fight him back, but I still have a lot of anger. I'm not afraid anymore, but..." She sighed feelingly. "I'm not the same as I was before. Mother McCabe tells me not to expect miracles; it's a long and hard road."

"Well, I can promise you that you won't have to walk it alone. On this ship, we're a family."

"All for one and one for all?" She asked with a wry smile.

He thought it over. "I've always believed that everyone here should know that when the chips are down we can depend upon our shipmates. You have a lot of people who care; and I can tell you honestly that there's a certain amount of hero worship going on out there right now."

She sighed, shaking her head carefully. "I don't want 'hero worship'. I never did. All I wanted was my life back."

"Well, you got that. You fought for it, and you won." But still her eyes were troubled.

"Captain, can I make a confession?"

"I'm not really the one, but..."

"In the end, in those last few moments...I really wanted to kill him."

"I know you did." He said as somberly.

"It's going to take me a long time to get over that, to come to terms with it..." But then her expression lightened slightly. "But with your help and that of good friends, I'll find my way back. It's hard," she took a deep breath and forced a smile, "but I know I'll have good companions along the way."

Archer clasped her hand. "Always."

But then she took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, her tone was more like her own. "And so as long as 'slave driver' here has me off duty, I've got to find something to do to occupy my time." She looked well above Archer's eyes and smiled. "Fancy a trim?"

He could see the smile was as fragile and false as any he had ever seen, that it hid a heart and soul that were still filled with a lingering turmoil; that it would be so for a very long time. He also recalled Trip's having told him that she had contrived to get him to her 'barber shop' yesterday so she could talk privately in a place where she felt safe.

"Yes."


End file.
